Somewhere to Land: A Falling Through Sequel
by perpetual-estrangement
Summary: After Neverland, after Storybrooke, Emma and Killian are married and living in the Enchanted Forest. It's the happiest of Happy Endings but what challenges will they have to endure and fight through together to make sure they can keep it? Post Neverland AU
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome Back! Thanks for taking the time to read this sequel to Falling Through. I had planned on waiting until our three month hiatus, but I'm just simply too excited to start getting this out! So, expect a few updates as we finish out this half of the season and more regular additions during the long, long break.  
**

**SO, here's what you're in for this time around. There will be fluff. There will be smut. There will be adventure, magic, sailing, castle life, language, violence, and hopefully a bit of mystery****, as well as some angsty moments and feelsy ones, too! I hope you enjoy and please remember, your reviews mean the world to me! Alright, enough talking. Here we go. -Dani**

* * *

_Somewhere to Land  
_

_Chapter One_

* * *

It was fairly safe to assume that it wasn't _only _Emma's magic, stirred up by her ecstatic joy of actually getting a happy ending, that fixed Prince Charming and Snow White's castle. A good dose of True Love's kiss was probably also to blame as the savior, created by True Love, kissed her very own True Love to seal their wedding vows.

And it wasn't only the castle that enjoyed the effects.

Killian and Emma _Jones_ were just rounding the corner of a month married and it was clear that new life was exploding in the Enchanted Forest as well as the rest of Fairytale Land. Fresh growth sprung up eagerly all around them as the land shook the traces of the Dark Curse from its bones, and an abundance of wildlife like deer, birds, and fish seemed to pack the woods and waters, teeming with energy and activity. The more sinister creatures of the land, meanwhile, were by no means gone, but they did seem to retreat ever so slightly. The ogres and trolls still caused their share of problems and rumors of dragon sightings, none confirmed, arose once in a while, but for the most part, things quieted down as the unphased Enchanted Forest natives continued to rebuild their home.

New people showed up all the time in the growing kingdom and Emma was amazed at just how many people survived Regina's curse. Tales of being in the right place at the right time, knowing the right fairy, lucking out, or just being from far, far away lands, were many of the explanations, but still Emma couldn't get over how quickly the land and the people were rebounding. Killian reminded her, however, that, though they'd only been in the world for five months, Emma broke the curse long before that. Thinking back, Emma smirked with a good deal of happiness when she realized that the same day she did her savior duties was also the same day as her first arrival to the Enchanted Forest when she and her mother fell through a portal on the heels of a wraith, thus beginning a series of events that Emma couldn't help but to smile about whenever she thought back to that first visit, that first encounter with her home, her pirate, her True Love, her husband.

All the explanations in the world, however, still couldn't cover just how well the world had come back to life. It was nothing short of miraculous and while those closest to Emma knew that it was her, it was always her, it was kept absolutely secret since she hated the attention. So, the majority of people made their own legends and theories, some close to the truth and some so fanciful, they were no doubt the stories that would survive the years and become the fairytales of tomorrow. When the topic _was_ brought up, however, Emma always held quite firmly to the belief that had she not had Killian, the magic she spun by complete accident would never have been as large or as powerful.

As the kingdom flourished in that month and things slowly began to return to normal, some people were soon ready to move on, mainly other royals ready to seek out their original homes and lands. David's cursed "wife", Kathryn and her family, the woman's dad apparently was King Freakin' Midas, Ashley/Cinderella and her Prince with _his _family, were a few, and then of course, Regina, who swore to Henry that she wouldn't challenge Snow and Charming's rule. At the moment, she was at her own castle, fixing it up, and Henry was visiting. He'd be back for the party.

And, God, did her mother plan a party!

Soon after Emma's magic, they found the palace coffers were beautifully intact along with all the furnishings and trappings inside the magically restored fortress. According to her parents, it was like the curse never happened. Killian, of course, made sure to applaud her for keeping the gold and the jewels, earning him rolled eyes and a playful laugh. The restoration of wealth, however, _was_ a huge help. Not only did it boost the morale of the entire kingdom, but it was a good kickstart to the local economy as coin was soon circulating alongside your basic trade system. It was just another step accomplished on the road to getting back to normal. With the resources and great progress they were making, throwing a celebration for it all was a no-brainer and Snow and David were already thinking party when Emma hesitatingly approached with Killian in hand and dropped the 'Oh, hey we got married' bomb on them.

_Snow and David stood there with their mouths open, glancing between their daughter and her new husband, while Emma squirmed in her boots. She knew they'd warmed up to her pirate but they were just standing there not saying anything now. Killian gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and no sooner had she returned the grip, her mother was colliding into her for a big hug, laughing and cheering._

"_You're not mad?" Emma managed to ask as Snow squeezed her hard. Behind her, David was also_ _recovered from his shock and_ _grinning like a fool._

_Snow finally pulled back and took Emma's face in her hands. "Of course I'm not mad! I mean, I wish I could have seen it but I guess you weren't looking forward to all the attention," she cringed._

_Emma nodded, glad she understood and Snow quickly moved on to embrace her new son-in-law as David moved in for his daughter._

"_What your mother fails to mention is that we were kind of married the same way," he laughed, hugging her. "Are you happy?" _

"_Yeah, dad. I'm very happy."_

"_Good," he said and, looking to Killian, put on his best hostile face as he moved from Emma's arms. _"_Don't think for one second that 'son-in-law' means I won't kill you," he warned seriously as Emma and Snow looked back and forth warily between the two men, but David's face broke into a smile and, to the surprise of everyone, crushed the very shocked looking pirate in a manly and familial hug._

Emma knew she could live forever and never forget that look on her husband's face. Even a month later she still laughed at the memory.

"What's so funny?" Snow asked as she worked on arranging Emma's hair.

The big party was that evening, the celebration of the kingdom's progress and a belated wedding reception now, and Emma, in good spirits most of the time lately, couldn't deny that she was looking forward to it. She sat obediently in her bathroom in front of a large mirrored vanity as Snow coaxed her curly blonde hair into an updo that was somehow elegant without being frilly. Behind them, in a small copper tub, a couple of the castle girls were getting a bath ready.

"Just the look on Killian's face that time that David hugged him," she answered with a grin.

Snow laughed, a bit of mischief entering her eyes. "I'm kind of waiting for the one when he sees you in that dress tonight."

Emma's grin spread a mile wide at that thought. It hadn't taken Snow much time at all to dive right into planning something for her daughter, what with all the new assets to play with, and Emma made sure she jumped right in with her to avoid anything with poofy, frilly skirts, pastel colors, applique flowers, or anything else just as terrifying. She didn't give her mother enough credit though, and she ended up with nothing negative at all to say about what Snow suggested and threw into motion. Her mother's brainchild was a strapless, dark blue dress that hugged Emma's body down to her knees where it then flared out slightly with some loosely waving tiers of fabric. It was absolutely gorgeous and Emma loved it. She also loved the lavish application of diamonds from the family collection she'd be wearing, small studs for her ears and an intricate choker with a blue ribbon to tie it around her throat that matched her dress.

But then there was the _tiara_.

At the word, Emma had finally put her foot down. Emma Swan… shit… _Emma Jones_ did not play princess and wear tiaras! Snow had ignored her protests and produced the thing anyways and Emma had to bite back her panic again. It was hardly deserving of the word 'tiara'. It was basically a headband, a _diamond studded_ headband, yes, but it would barely be noticeable in her hair. Okay, so maybe Emma Jones could wear a tiara, she'd thought. Snow had also casually reminded her that at the end of the day, she _was_ royalty and it was least she could do.

Moms and guilt trips.

Still anticipating showing off for Killian, Emma snickered, making sure Beth and Sarah, the girls, were out of the room before she responded to her mother's comment. "The dress, or the corset when he takes me out of it?" Snow stuttered for a second before laughing and Emma blushed and hid her face in her hands, laughing just as much. "I'm sorry! I forget you're my mom sometimes!"

"Oh, come on, Emma," Snow giggled. "It's not like I don't _know_. How the heck do you think you happened?"

"I try not to think about it," Emma laughed again, blushing deeper.

"Okay, you're set!" Snow exclaimed with a final chuckle, setting a final curl in place before stepping back to check out her work. "Enjoy your bath. Relax and rest. It'll be a long night. I have to go get myself ready."

Emma called out her thank you as her mother left the room and grabbed a towel from the wooden wardrobe, tossing it over the arms of the vanity chair along with her thick robe as she headed for the tub. The water was perfectly warm and a small bucket of hot water sat beside the tub in case she needed more heat. Emma eased herself into the water and embraced the relaxation with a sigh before carefully leaning her head back against the side so as not to get her hair wet, and closed her eyes.

Yeah, Enchanted Forest, not too damn bad.

It wasn't all fun and games, by any means. All this pampering and leisure was a brand new thing, her first taste of the comforts that came with _royalty_. Everyone kept extremely busy with getting the kingdom together. True Love miracle kisses didn't take care of everything, unfortunately. There were homes to build, shops to set up, farms to plant, clothing to make, shoes, weapons, etc. You name it, they needed it. A lot of the castle's resources were used, another major plus for its resurrection, but manpower was needed more than anything and Emma ended up learning and doing just about anything and everything. She was the one with the biggest learning curve since she'd spent her entire life in the Land Without Magic but Bukoos of Technology, but that only made her push harder. Snow and David and all the natives were already totally at home with the variety of chores and even Killian, man of the sea that he was, looked like seeding a field was second nature to him, earning him a playful handful of said seed thrown in his face from Emma. Her hand at sewing was crap. She had basic repair going okay, but beyond that, it just wasn't her calling. She had always been the handy type, you know, years alone and depending on yourself to fix what needed to be fixed, so whenever someone needed help that required a hammer or a little bit of sweat, she was there. The amount of work kept them all perpetually tired so this party idea of her parent's was very much appreciated and needed by all. A day to chill and a night to celebrate.

A finger traced along her neck, snapping her from her thoughts, and she instinctively went to swing her fist towards the intruder before her brain reminded her that it was probably just Killian. She was right and the pirate snatched her wrist before she could connect with his handsome face, pulling her close with a playful grin on his face.

"Hello, love," he laughed low, pressing a simple kiss on her lips.

"Hey, husband," she smirked. "How's your day been?"

Killian perched himself on the edge of the tub, letting his fingers go back to tracing the skin he could reach. His eyes roamed leisurely into the water, a pleased quirk showing up on his eyebrows, before he answered her. "Better, now." Their grins matched as their eyes met and Killian sighed happily. "Your father is looking to build some docks, wanted my opinion on some of the details. I fear we may have gotten carried away."

"Excellent," Emma answered. The Jolly deserved a proper parking space. Killian's hand grew bolder as it slipped into the water. He was teasing her and Emma was determined for her feathers not to ruffle so easily. He loved it when he did that to her. Hell, she did too, but she couldn't mess up her hair. Snow would murder them both. "What are you wearing tonight?" she asked, voice carefully free of any shakes.

Killian's eyes snapped to hers, knowing that she was trying to distract him, but he answered her anyways. "Don't worry, lass. I may be a pirate but I know how to dress for the occasion."

"Lots of fancy parties in your history, then?"

His smirk took on a bit of a mischievous edge. "I may have snuck into a few, aye. Danced with a few ladies, stole a few kisses, stole a few baubles, harmless fun."

Emma laughed derisively. "Sure it was. I'm sure you snuck into a few baths and beds too."

He winked at her. "Don't be jealous, love. I'm all yours now."

"You better be," she threatened, dipping her mouth into the water before shooting some at his face.

Killian, sailor through and through, ignored the soaking and rushed forwards, kissing her hotly as his hand slipped deeper into the water, over her belly to a place he knew all too well. After a few moments of delicious torture, he pulled back, a grin on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and walked away coolly. He dragged her vanity chair near the tub so that he could sit comfortably and watch her in the bath, a smug smile on his lips answering her mildly threatening eyes.

He always did this! Teased her and then sauntered off, totally unaffected! Not right! Taking a deep breath, she began to plot.

"What are _you_ wearing tonight, Emma?"

_Oh, okay, fine. Small talk. I'll play._

"A dress," she said as she lathered a small chunk of soap on a cloth and began to wash, starting with her long legs.

"Fascinating," he replied, the dryness matching hers.

Emma chuckled, still thinking of ways to get back at him for teasing her. "You'll see. I want it to be a surprise."

"I very much doubt you can look better is some dress than you do right now," he said in that low tone of hers that managed to hit a nerve in her spine and send shivers throughout her body. His eyes followed her every movement as she dragged the washcloth across her skin.

"Well, for some reason I don't think I can go naked," she drolled.

Killian shrugged, his eyes heating up as his mind certainly wandered to some interesting alternatives for them. "We could just stay in."

Emma pretended to chew on that option for a while before she sunk into the water a bit more to rinse the soap from her shoulders. It really wasn't an option at all, but she got enough time pretending to think on it. Her plan was finally in place and she was ready to play. Quickly, she hauled herself out of the tub and rushed to him. Straddling him in the chair, soaking him with her wet body, she kissed him roughly before he knew what hit him. It didn't take the man long, however, and a groan filled the little room as his arms clutched her tightly, his hand greedily sliding along her wet skin. Killian broke the kiss and made a move to lick the water from her shoulder but Emma suddenly pinned his wrists to the arms of the chair. The rough gesture got his attention and the blue fire in his eyes nearly made her reconsider his suggestion and say the hell with the party.

_Nope, Emma. Do not let him win._

Grinning in the way that he always did when he was up to no good, Emma kept his arms held down and wiggled seductively in his lap, rolling her hips against his and watching as his mouth opened the slightest bit in bliss. She continued her movements as she leaned forward to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip and earning herself a breathy curse from the man. He was rock hard beneath her and Emma chuckled to herself that she was finally paying him back. Feeling more confident, she climbed out of his lap and whipped around, securing his arms to the chair again, and resumed her lap dance, grinding against him in fluid motions. Killian bucked his hips, obviously getting tired of being teased, and she leaned her back against him, letting his arms free finally, but before they could wrap around her, she was up and walking to her vanity, like nothing ever happened.

"Eh, we really _should_ go. Mary Margaret will kill us if we don't," she sighed, her voice showing no trace that she was affected by all the foreplay, which was a hell of a feat.

She casually plucked her diamond earrings from the table and proceeded to put them on. The mirror allowed her to see Killian's head fall backwards in the chair, eyes closed, and the irritated clench to his jaw. Emma stifled her laughter and smoothed her face before he could catch her and moved on to do some of her makeup while he tried to sort himself. The pirate was always a quick one and before long he was up and striding her way. Stopping behind her, he placed a gentle kiss on her neck but his eyes were dangerous as they met hers in the mirror.

"Emma love," he said, voice husky. "Who exactly do you think you're playing with?"

Emma shut down the shiver that threatened her body at his words. "I don't know what you're talking about," she shrugged, tracing on a bit of eyeliner she swiped from the apartment in Storybrooke before they left, doing her best attempt at ignoring him.

He smirked but the action was dark. "Fine, sweetheart, you win for now, but tonight, every time I look at you, I want you to remember that you'll be paying for that little stunt as soon as I have you back in our room."

"Whatever you say, Killian," she scoffed with a smile.

He bit down on her shoulder, not enough to mark, but enough to get her attention as his voice stayed low and threatening. "I mean it, Emma. Enjoy the party. Wear your pretty dress, dance, laugh, and smile, but know that tonight, I'll make you scream so loud the entire bloody kingdom will hear you."

Emma nearly lost her calm. She could feel her knees begin to wobble but she held it together, a brief pause her only evidence of just how much his promise affected her. And, coming from Killian Jones, it _was_ a promise. Despite the knock to her strong front, she managed to smile sweetly at her pirate.

"We'll see," she shrugged again, intentionally backing her hips up into his. She had learned how much he loved that little move and, with her naked, it was sure to hit him exactly the way she wanted.

Killian glared at her for a moment, confirming her thoughts, but that devilish smirk was back before long and he was swooping in for a hard, brief kiss. "Yes, my love, you most certainly will," he growled low.

Emma knew she was holding on to her control by a fingernail but the spell he always cast over her whenever he was like this was suddenly broken by the hard smack on her ass.

"AH!" she yelped. The bathwater that clung to her just added to the sting from his hand and Killian chuckled as he wisely skipped away to the door to avoid any repercussions.

"See you tonight then, love," he said happily, closing the door that led to their bedroom behind him.

Emma cringed and rubbed at the red hand mark on her butt, but a giggle broke through immediately. She got the cocky bastard! Smiling smugly to herself, she continued getting ready for her evening, which was sure to be extra fun now with her and Killian both throwing down the gauntlet. An unexpected twinge to her eyebrow hit when she reflected on just how unbelievably happy she was. All the years of hurting, of loneliness, of abandonment, and despair, were healing nicely. She was continuing to work on the relationship with her parents, she enjoyed seeing Henry excited and happy as he ran around the castle and the kingdom, and she had Killian, her husband, whom she loved more than she thought possible and who she was pretty sure, loved her just as much. Emma was suddenly so overwhelmingly happy, she was afraid she might cry and ruin the makeup she'd put on, so she sniffed back the tears, shaking her head to clear it. A brilliant smile exploded on her face instead.

Emma never believed in happy endings but she damn well got one, and the best part was, it wasn't an ending at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian skipped up the stone steps to the open, double door entrance of the ballroom, a lightness in his heart and feet that he was slowly becoming reacquainted with.

Thanks to Emma.

She breathed life into him from the moment he met her, dressed in that red leather jacket and a hardness in her eyes that was like looking into a mirror. He liked her immediately, even more so when she bested him, all the while never having the faintest idea that within just a short time, he'd fall in love with her and he'd marry her.

And, dammit, he loved her so very much, more than anything or anyone ever before, and it was no slight to Milah or her memory to say so. If it wasn't for her, he'd never have been led down the path that led to Emma, his True Love. He thought that the woman from so long ago might even be a bit proud of him. Killian knew he'd certainly bless the day he met her, igniting a powder keg of events that led him to where he was now: in the ballroom of the castle belonging to Prince Charming and Snow White, a castle that had become his second home, dressed in finery he hadn't worn since he was a much younger man, and, instead of being there to steal something, he laughed to himself, he was slipping stealthily through the crowd looking for his blonde wife.

God, he loved calling her that!

Never would he have thought, fawning over her in Neverland and cursing himself for hoping, that he'd get to _taste her_! Let alone bed her and wed her! And, bloody hell, the woman shook him senseless with her kisses and lovemaking. Her little stunt from earlier that morning had him aching for her the rest of the day, but he'd be damned if he was going to let the little minx win. He'd actually snuck in some sleep aboard the Jolly, both to keep himself away from her and avoid sinking to his knees and giving in and also because he had no intention of a full night's sleep that night. It was a thorough loving in store for his extremely maddening and much cherished wife.

Killian grinned wickedly to himself as he moved through the crush of people, looking for her while making a list of all possible ways he wanted to have her. Most of them he hadn't tried yet, like stretching her out on her belly, legs closed, while he-

_Bloody fucking hell!_

There was no mistaking the _gorgeous_ woman on the other side of the room with a half grimace, half smiling blush on her face as she spoke with some couple Killian recognized, but couldn't name, and didn't care to. All he could do was stop and stare at his wife, his love, his heart, his Emma.

She was always so beautiful and he honestly didn't believe it was possible for her to be more so, but there she was, decked in jewels and fine clothes, her hair the curly mass of treasure he'd seen earlier that day, but glowing like her skin under the golden light in the room. She shattered any sight he'd ever seen, blinded him with the impossibility of it all. Emma Jones, standing in her parent's castle, a princess and a pirate, was utterly and undeniably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he'd lived a sodding long time.

Was that dress even allowed in polite society? Not that he gave one damn, but the thing was enticing to a level that made his heart thud at a breakneck pace and his jaw drop, not unlike his reaction from earlier that day. Fuck, he could still taste her skin on his tongue, dripping with bathwater, feel her moving in his lap like the bloody temptress she was, and she had the audacity to show up to the ball with a dress that hugged her trim body so perfectly, the color of the deepest sea depths. Diamonds glittered in her ears and around her neck, like he needed any more temptation! And, bloody hell, he could tell. She was wearing a corset under that dress and that thought alone nearly had him running to her and begging her to love him and love him now.

Killian breathed deep, trying to calm himself. It wasn't possible! He really did die in Neverland! For no other possible explanation made sense to him. How could Emma, stunning and brave, who tasted like heaven and fought like hell, tender, strong, bright, and intelligent Emma, love him? And how was it possible that he'd get to spend the rest of his life with her?

Dammit, she was in trouble for wearing that dress, because she damn well knew exactly what it'd do to him!

Biting down on his tongue, the pain helping him control his body, he was soon ready to play this game with her. It'd be a challenge for both of them as they both would remember the sultry scene of their last meeting and the promise of what the night would bring, but Killian Jones had always loved a challenge.

* * *

"Mom!" Henry yelled, shoving past guests as politely as possible for an excited eleven year old.

"Hey kid!" Emma cheered, squeezing tight as her son crashed into her arms. "How are you?"

"I'm great! Isn't this awesome?"

As much as Emma was completely out of her element, you know, a big fancy ball in the Enchanted Forest with royalty and fairytales and magic, she had to admit that Henry was most definitely right. It was pretty damn awesome. The ballroom was already swarmed with people, everyone from Red and Granny, to the dwarves, to Ashley and her Prince, to the new arrivals to the kingdom. Everyone was there, from royalty to townfolk. Mary Margaret and David pulled out all the stops. They had music, they had champagne, they had fabric for dresses and jackets, they had food, and they had friends to share it with. A lot of them. Night had fallen already and the stars and moonlight glittered through the open porticos and stained glass windows while candlelight in lamps and chandeliers illuminated the ballroom with a warm and bright glow. Shimmer was everywhere and Emma swore it was the most impressive sight she'd ever seen. So much so, she'd pinched herself a few times already that evening.

"It's really cool," she agreed with a nod and a smile. "Where's Regina?"

"She's around here somewhere. I think she's a little nervous," Henry cringed. "You know, Evil Queen thing."

Emma smiled a bit at her son who was obviously worried about his other mom. She had to give Regina credit. She certainly was _trying_ to turn a new leaf and while she still retained a good dose of sour in her personality, Emma had to admit sometimes she wasn't all that bad. Laughing to herself, she weighed the idea of getting her drunk. It would be interesting to see which part of her personality came out more then.

"Is dad here?" Henry asked her as he craned his neck to see around people.

"Yeah, I saw him a bit ago. He brought Belle."

"No Gold?"

Emma shook her head. "Snow sent the invite to Belle with a plus one. I'm guessing he didn't want to come. Probably for the best."

"Um, yeah," Henry said, nodding vigorously. "He doesn't exactly have the best history with most of the people here."

"So I'm told."

"I'm going to go find Neal," he said, skipping away, but he spun around after a few steps and rushed back to her. "You look really pretty, mom!" he cheered with a big smile for her before disappearing in the crowd of people.

Emma smiled, blushed even, at the compliment and snagged a glass of bubbling champagne from a nearby tray, making her way through the crowd. Mingling wasn't really her thing but she was soon spotted by Ashley and her husband. Making her way over to them, she noticed that the young blonde woman she helped what seemed like forever ago, was a little heavier than the last time she saw her. Emma raised her eyebrows, letting them ask the question, and Ashley laughed and nodded.

"Yup, I'm pregnant again!"

"That's great!" Emma cried, letting the hug happen. Ashley was definitely a hugger. "Congratulations, you two! How long?"

"I'm thinking I'm close to four months," Ashley beamed, patting her slightly swelling belly.

Sean, (Or was it Thomas?) Emma had to dig to remember his name in any case, got her attention as he cleared his throat. "Emma, I never got the chance to thank you. You broke the curse and got my wife and I back together, true, but before that. You brought us back together before that and saved our child from Rumplestiltskin."

"Oh," she groaned. She really hated this stuff. "Don't mention it. Really."

Ashley smiled, catching on to the fact that Emma didn't like praise, and pointed through the crowd of people. "I think your mother may be looking for you."

Even though the woman was tiny, it was easy to pick Snow White out of the crowd. A full skirted yellow dress, strapless, and with embroidery that carried a bit of glitter, graced her petite frame. Long white gloves encased her arms and as she spotted Emma, she lit up and waved enthusiastically. Emma grinned her goodbyes to Cinderella and her Prince and made her way to her mom.

"Having fun or are we scaring you?" Mary Margaret laughed, but Emma could tell she _was_ a little worried.

"No, it's fun!" Emma said honestly. "It's just... my first big party in Fairytale Land, as a princess, in a castle, wearing a stupid amount of diamonds," she laughed.

Snow laughed with her. "Well, you look beautiful. Where's that pirate of yours?"

"Haven't seen him yet," Emma replied with a quick scan of the room. She remembered all too well his promise from earlier in the day and was almost jittering with anticipation to start teasing him again.

"Oh, dear, this could go badly," Snow said suddenly with a look of utter fear on her face.

"What? Oh... _shit_," Emma breathed as her eyes found what spooked her mother.

Across the room was Regina, wearing a form fitting black dress, the soft fabric plush and unadorned, save for a few pieces of glittering jewelry, and near her was a man. A man that was talking to her. No, not talking. The brave sonofabitch looked like he was flirting, completely unphased by Regina's unimpressed eyebrow. The man offered her his hand and both Snow and Emma gasped as they watched the fool ask the Evil Queen to dance. Instead of turning the poor man into a frog, or just, you know, _killing him_, the oddest quirk hit the queen's brow and after a beat she managed a small smile, some warning comment, no doubt, and accepted by placing her hand in his. And off they went.

"What the hell just happened?" Emma asked, completely stunned.

"I think Regina's smiling," Snow replied slowly. "And dancing."

"Who's the guy?"

"Would you believe me if I told you?" she smirked.

"At this point in my life, I think I'll believe just about anything."

"Robin Hood."

"Are you serious?" Emma yelped before bursting into laughter.

"Oh this is too good," Snow laughed. "I have to go tell your father."

And with that, Emma watched her mom disappear through the crush of people, still chuckling to herself about the scene she just witnessed. Maybe Regina didn't need a drink to chill out. Maybe she just needed to get laid. Emma laughed harder to herself at that thought and meandered with her champagne glass to a stone column on the edge of the ballroom, leaning against it to people watch. She smiled and sighed contentedly as she spied Henry getting a dance lesson from Belle, Snow and David talking happily with each other, Aurora and Phillip lounging together on a cushioned bench, enthusiastic couples twirling on the ballroom floor, and smiles and laughter everywhere.

And then her heart stopped.

Emma caught just a wisp of a glimpse of Killian on the other side of the ballroom but her eyes quickly lost him amongst the guests and she craned her neck and teetered on the balls of her feet trying to find the handsome face again. No luck.

Giving up after a moment, she huffed and landed her heels back on the ground, prepared to go track him down, but an arm slipped around her waist and pulled her against a solid chest, sending a thrill racing through her blood. The softest brush of a kiss landed on her earlobe and she shivered in her husband's arms.

"Bloody hell, love," Killian purred in her ear. He was trying to use that voice of his that hit her just in the right spot, but it was tinged with too much awe. "Do you have _any_ idea how gorgeous you are?"

Emma felt his fingertips lightly trace her bare shoulders, the diamonds at her ears and in the choker at her neck, (Hello? Pirate), and then along her side, admiring how the dress snugged her slender body.

Emma felt her face explode in a smile and a blush, shaking her head to the compliment. She turned in his arms, pulling back to get a good look at him and felt her jaw hit the floor as she got a close up of the beautiful man she was married to. The leather was gone, save the tall black boots and belt slung carelessly over his trim hips. The black pants hugged his legs just as well as his leather did, a dark burgundy shirt, the color doing wonderful things for his face, sat underneath a black velvet jacket, with a modestly tall collar. Emma couldn't stop herself and she clawed her fingernails through the rich fabric of his jacket that stretched beautifully across his strong arms and broad shoulders. It was odd to not see the deep v's he wore so often, but even the absence his usual generous flashing of chest wasn't enough to detract from how sexy he was.

"Son of a bitch," she breathed, making him laugh. "You're... you're-"

"Yes?"

"Fucking beautiful," she gasped, still looking him over and taking in every tiny detail. Dammit, those pants and boots made his legs look a mile long.

Killian flashed her an eyebrow. "Madam, I can't say that anyone has been so reckless as to call me 'beautiful'."

"You are," Emma nodded, still gliding her hands over the soft fabric of his jacket that clung so perfectly to his body. "My mouth's watering."

The teasing smirk on his face vanished, quick as could be, and she caught fire in his blue eyes before he yanked her closer, crashing in to kiss her and find out just how serious she was about her comment. It was _not_ an exaggeration.

A small, satisfied moan reverberated from his chest as he pulled away, but as he spoke, Emma could feel his lips moving on hers still. "Do you remember what I promised you, Emma?" he whispered as the people moved around them, completely unnoticed by the pair.

"Mmhmm."

"Keep making comments like that and you won't walk for a week."

Emma clutched him tighter. She damn near fell over but Killian held her, a mischievous chuckle leaving his mouth.

Recovering a bit, she met his eyes with some fight and defiance. "Careful, Killian. You aren't exactly so cool when I touch you either," she cooed softly before leaning in and pulling his earlobe, with earring, into her mouth. Killian was working hard not to make a sound, she knew it and felt it as his arms tightened around her. Emma didn't torture him for long, not wanting to make too much of a show, and gave him an eyebrow of her own.

"A week, Emma," he threatened, his voice low and his eyes hazy.

"We'll see," she smirked as she raked her fingernails over his chest.

The music changed to something slow and haunting and Killian cocked his head for a moment, an idea forming before he grinned in a way that was carefree and happy, a sight that was still a novelty to Emma.

Releasing her from his embrace, he offered his hand with a slight bow. "Be good to your husband and dance with him?"

Emma gave a short sardonic laugh. "Killian, I don't know how to dance. Not like this."

The pirate had already grabbed her hand, however, and was dragging her to where the rest of the dancers were. "It's just a waltz, love. You'll be fine," he said, wrapping his hooked arm loosely around her waist and holding her hand up in position. "Relax, m'dear, and trust me."

She smiled into his pretty eyes. There was no one in the world she trusted more and as soon as Killian felt her body hand over the reins, he gently swept her into the dance, moving like he danced everyday with the solid and structured grace only a man could have. Taking a moment to figure out what the hell she was doing, Emma was eventually enjoying herself and continued to admire the handsome man leading her on the ballroom floor.

"Ah, now she's comfortable," he smirked triumphantly as he felt her body become more and more fluid.

"Comfortable's a strong word," she mumbled with a short laugh. "But, yeah, I'm usually okay when you hold me."

Killian smiled for her, full of love and devotion. "Have I told you today that I love you?"

"No, you've just been threatening to devour me as soon as we're alone," she quipped quickly.

Her pirate threw his head back and laughed at that. "Aye, but remind me, my love, who's fault is that?"

Emma snorted playfully. "I don't know what your problem is. All I did was sit in your lap and give you a kiss."

"You sat in my lap, naked and wet, moving like some well-trained harlot, and plundered my mouth with that luscious tongue of yours, lass."

Emma snickered. "Yeah, you're easy."

Killian glared at her teasingly, but it came off as a complete smolder as they spun about, perfectly in sync, and Emma tried to hide her big teasing smile. She knew exactly what she was doing to him and it was too awesome to have the upper hand with him.

The song ended and Killian stopped trying to set her ablaze with his eyes long enough to playfully spin her before bowing to kiss her hand. Captain Killian "Hook" Jones the gentleman, the pirate, the absolute love of her life. Emma was suddenly grinning for a completely different reason.

"Oh, happy endings just put a tear in my eye."

Both Emma and Killian, along with those nearby, whipped around to face Rumplestiltskin. His vicious giggling rang in the air and the remnants of the purple smoke of his entrance still lingered around him. His face was dark and leathery and his eyes were reptile like. Emma had seen this side of him before, but only a glimpse as the bastard tried to crush her heart in her chest that day in Neverland. It was no wonder Killian called him Crocodile. Even in his fancy clothes, he was a cold blooded, dangerous thing.

Killian reached for his sword but didn't draw and Emma did the same, only, she didn't have hers.

_Stupid dress!_

"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma demanded. She wasn't armed with steel, but she could fight just as well verbally.

Behind her and her husband, she glanced and saw that David and Snow had pushed their way through the crowd, David on high alert like Killian. Another pair pushed through the now circled gawkers, Neal and Belle.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Neal cajoled desperately. "Don't start trouble, please."

"Oh, I'm not here to start trouble," Rumple simpered. "Why would you think that, Bae?"

"Oh, I don't know," Emma answered dryly. "Because you always do."

Rumple smirked at her before his eyes slid to Killian, his voice like venom. "Moving up in the world, I see, boy."

Emma shot her hand out to stay her husband's sword but she really should have been worried about her father's. David drew his sword and the point hovered threateningly in Rumple's direction.

"You never make a big entrance unless you want something," he growled. "So, what is it?"

The Crocodile preened and steepled his fingers as he slowly began to walk a circle around Killian and Emma, who was getting a little more than pissed off. David's sword followed him carefully.

"I don't want a thing! I simply came to enjoy all the True Love while it lasts," Rumple smirked with a glare for Killian and Emma.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Killian finally spoke, the anger boiling already.

The Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the pirate, not happy about being addressed by him, and the two stared each other down, the threats and violence between them almost tangible.

"Hey!" Emma snapped. "He asked you what you meant."

The cold smile was back as the reptilian eyes slid to her. "Well, dearie, it seems that my sight has improved dramatically since our escape from Storybrooke and I'm seeing all sorts of _interesting_ possibilities."

"Oh, please," she groaned. "Look, if you're going to try to curse us, or kill us, or whatever, let's just get it over with."

Rumple cackled with glee. "Oh, no, dearie! Despite my hatred of your worthless husband and the fact that, well, I don't need _you_ anymore, _savior_, death just isn't in the cards for you yet."

Killian cut in at that. "The last time you said that I found my True Love and my happy ending. Can't be too bad."

"On the contrary, _pirate,_" Rumple spat. "You may have found your True Love but your going to have a little bit of trouble with that happily ever after part."

"What do you know?" Snow demanded, standing beside her husband with the same look of anger and defiance, but Rumple only giggled.

Emma finally had more than enough and stepped in between Rumplestiltskin and her Captain. "You know what?" she snapped. "You've dealt with both of us so you should know that no matter what you do to either of us, you won't win, and with the two of us together, if you want your little visions to come true, you better hope they are gigantic because it's going to take something that size to fuck with us! If you're living to see us fall, then you are going to be waiting for a while. Back off or we'll put you down."

Rumplestiltskin smiled cruelly as Emma returned a seething glare, bristling with anger. "Just be glad I'm choosing to ignore the fact that you chose Captain Hook over my son. Good luck, dearie, getting your happy ending! You're going to need it."

And with that, he grabbed a disappointed and hurt looking Belle, and the two disappeared in a cloud of magic. Emma sighed out her anger as the room exploded with the sound of hundreds of murmured conversations.

"How accurate are these visions of his?" Emma asked her parents.

Snow shook her head. "I don't know. He knew you'd be a girl when I was pregnant and that you'd be the key to breaking Regina's curse -"

"That was only because he designed the curse with an off switch," Regina interrupted, appearing suddenly with Henry. "His sight's fuzzy at best. Too many options to see which one's the real one."

"Yeah, seeing the future's kind of hit and miss," Neal agreed, looking incredibly guilty. "I'm really sorry, guys."

Killian shook his head as he ran a reassuring hand down Emma's arm. "It's hardly your fault, Bae. Your father has his habits."

"Welcome home, everyone," David droned with a sigh. "Kind of comforting that nothing's changed."

Snow snorted at the dry humor. "Come on," she said. "We'll just keep a wary eye out. Let's not let him spoil the party."

The music started back up, the dancing resumed along with the laughter and general lightness in the air, but Emma was still chewing on what had just happened, her brow kinked in thought.

"Alright there, love?" Killian asked her.

She smiled tightly at him for a second. "Just a bad feeling." Killian began to speak, to reassure her, but she cut him off, shaking her head and getting more worried by the second. "He's going to try something, Killian. Just because you stopped going after him, doesn't mean he's going to play by the same rules."

"Emma lass," he said calmly, trying to soothe her. "He had plenty of opportunity to kill me in Neverland and when we returned to Storybrooke and -"

"But you're on his turf now!"

"Aye, but it's also mine!" he pressed with seriousness in his brow. "I've lived longer than anyone is supposed to. Do you really doubt my ability to survive, my love?"

"Fucking yes!" Emma yelped. "You've already died once on me!"

Killian pulled her into his arms, ducking his lips to her ear for a kiss. "Emma, listen to me," he whispered. "I'll stay alert, I promise you, but please do not worry yourself, love."

Emma held on tight, trying to bury the sudden panic rushing through her. She could _not_ lose him again! Killian thought he had an impressive run at revenge; it would be _nothing_ compared to the one she would undertake if Rumplestiltskin took her pirate away from her. She knew very well what revenge did to Killian, but if the worst came to pass, she wouldn't give a damn about throwing herself in head first. Calming herself by focusing on all the possible ways to kill the Crocodile if she needed to, Emma soon breathed deep and leaned back to kiss Killian.

She'd already promised to love and honor when they married, but she always knew she'd promised much more than that. She'd promised to stand at his side, fight for him and defend him, and it was a promise she renewed inside her heart as she kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning: Smut Chapter  
_

_Skip if you wish! Chapter four should be up sometime this week!  
_

* * *

Emma stumbled up the stairs, chuckling to herself for being such a klutz. She really hadn't expected to enjoy the evening as much as she did, but it ended up being a really great time. The champagne and wine flowed freely and the food was good, if not a little different than Emma was used to. Killian only made her dance one more time, avoiding the complicated routines that were so ingrained into the natives, even after not being used for nearly thirty years, but Emma knew next time she'd buck up and ask him for another waltz. Dinner consisted of Emma and Snow laughing and gasping for breath as Killian and David both shared adventures of theirs, choosing the funniest, the most awkward, the ones with the most mishaps, hilarious coincidences, and screw-ups on their part. The booze and bubbles didn't help her giggles and it was near to impossible to keep from doing so every time Killian kissed her with champagne on his tongue or his hand snuck under the table to caress her thigh or hip, bold and tempting as always. She should've sat on the other side of him, she thought before quickly shaking her head. Where would the fun be in that? And dammit! Those flirty comments of his! He was not holding back and the things he whispered in her ear were so R rated, she actually blushed a few times. Finally fed up with his teasing, Emma had slipped away with a full glass of champagne and a pointed look at her pirate before she sauntered out of the ballroom and up the stairs, the sounds of the party still echoing throughout the entire castle.

Shouldering her way into their bedroom, just a bit tipsy and high on fun, she breathed a huge contented sigh. Life was pretty damn good. She was _home_ and never in her wildest imaginings as a child, or teenager, or even as the lonely adult she was for a good while, would she have imagined _such_ a home. She was married to a pirate and they lived in a castle.

Kicking off her heels, Emma swept the room with her eyes, swearing she'd never get used to any of the fairytale crap. A castle! And yet, the room that she shared with Killian wasn't cold or ridiculous, or any of the connotations that might cling to a bedroom in Fairytale Land, in a damn castle. No, it was perfect. They'd, of course, chosen the room with a balcony and large windows that faced the sea and the french doors were always wide open, even at night, the stars and the moon helping the lamps to light the room. The centerpiece for the bedroom was the bed, of course, four-poster, made of dark wood, the posts squared and almost plain, save the delicate, low-relief carvings of vines on each of the sides. Thick, dark blue curtains, with a faint scrolling pattern, were tied at each post, apparently for when it got cold, and the bed itself was spread with an equally dark comforter, soft white sheets, a modest amount of pillows, and was so comfortable, Emma thought she'd cry the first time she lay on it. It'd been christened a time or two, the number low simply because of how busy everyone had been and the fact that she and Killian were apparently capable of being just as intimate as they whispered to each other and held on as they passed out after their day. Furniture, made of the same wood as the bed, filled the rest of the room without cluttering it. A desk and chair sat near the windows and balcony, a place where Killian would write or sketch some design, and then there were two bedside tables, a small coffee table with two high-backed, comfy chairs which sat across from Killian's desk by the windows, and a large wardrobe containing her Enchanted Forest threads along with a couple lingering pieces from Storybrooke, like her red leather jacket for one. A good sized fireplace hugged the wall facing the foot of their bed beside the door that led to the adjacent bathroom. The Enchanted Forest was in full summer so the fireplace remained dormant for the time being, but Emma already couldn't wait to get the thing roaring in a dark, cold winter as she snuggled beside Killian. A couple tapestries broke up the monotony of the stone walls, both with subdued colors and forest scenes, and a couple well placed, plush rugs did the same for the stone floor, all making up the nicest place Emma had ever lived in and it was to be her home forever.

"I did wonder when you'd finally decide to find our room, love," Killian said with humor in his voice from somewhere behind her.

"How'd you get up here so fast?" she asked, smirking at him over her shoulder.

"I had some strong motivation," he said as he drew close and pulled her back against his chest, whispering, "Emma, you're so beautiful, it physically hurts."

"You're not so bad yourself," she gasped as his mouth found her neck, kissing just above the diamond choker she wore.

Killian's hand went to her hair, plucking the tiny diamond tiara from her head and setting it on the fireplace mantle, followed by her newly emptied champagne glass. Once done, the hand was back, working the curls free from their pins which fell to the ground, unheeded. His hooked arm was wrapped around her waist and she closed her eyes and moaned briefly, leaning into him. It felt amazing, his fingers combing through her hair to free it, massaging, and the tingles shot through her body like tiny bursts of lightning.

Killian paused for a second at the sound, before chuckling low. "Noted, love," he whispered, continuing to play with her hair and free it from the pins, the sensation tortuously gentle but he threw in a couple rough tugs which had her toes curling with anticipation.

When the task was finished, he buried his face in the curls and breathed deep as his hand traveled to the back of her dress, undoing the buttons without hesitation and in a hurry. It was only a matter of seconds then and the blue fabric pooled at her feet, Killian's intake of breath nearly sucking the air out of the room as he saw the snugly laced corset she wore to better structure the dress and the short lace undies that hugged her hips. Recovering, he spun her around to face him and Emma nearly melted under the hot blue gaze she found.

"You like it?" she asked coyly with a big smile for him.

Killian's fingers ghosted from her collarbone, to the tiny gunshot scar on her shoulder from those last minutes in Neverland, to the swell of her breasts above the corset, and finally, down the stiff lines of the thing itself. "Emma," he whispered, swallowing hard. "I love you clothed, I love you naked, but I bloody love you in stays."

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him and pressing her body against him as much as she could as his hand wandered along the corset and down to her ass for a rough squeeze. Her mouth traveled across his jaw to his neck, sucking and nipping as she went, Killian's groans and appreciative little gasps her favorite sounds.

"Emma, you're going to kill me," he said breathlessly before pushing her back and focusing on her corset.

A series of hooks clasped the thing together down the center and Killian ran his fingers down the seam and back up. Bracing his good hand over her breast on one side and the side of his hook on the other, he squeezed, releasing the first fastening with a satisfying pop. Another gentle squeeze and pop followed and Emma smiled contentedly, loving the slow burn of being undressed by him. A short, frustrated sigh interrupted her, however, and she saw Killian's brow furrow slightly.

"What is it?"

Killian met her eyes, a bit of hesitation there, but he answered her anyways. "I don't think I've ever missed my left hand this much."

Emma was surprised, to say the least. He told her how it happened but other than that, Killian _never_ spoke about the loss or absence of his hand, and certainly not with any note of regret. He adapted so well, he never complained, he never let it be a hindrance, so much so that Emma sometimes forgot that he was _actually_ missing something. Love welled up within her heart for her husband, so absolutely unwilling to compromise or let himself be lacking in some way, and she was so proud that he was so successful. Leaning into him, she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips and reached up, laying her hand over his hook against her side.

"Guess at least you've got me," she said with a small shrug, letting her tone be a question.

Killian's eyes flew to hers, a treasure of emotion there, and he squeezed again, this time with her help, unhooking another clasp. "I love you, Emma," he said, solid as the day he gave her his vows. Pop, pop, pop.

"And I love you," she replied with a small smile.

He returned the look with his own grin and they lazily finished with the corset, letting the thing fall to the floor when they were done. Killian's eyes were hungry as they swept over her bare chest and his fingers quickly pushed her undies over her hips, sending them to the floor as well. Emma reached behind her neck to remove her necklace but a quick shake of Killian's head stopped her. A wicked grin spread across her face and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, walking backwards and drawing him towards the bed. Before she could pull him down to the soft mattress, however, he was having none of it and in a swift move, removed himself from her embrace and playfully pushed her so she fell onto the bed in a confused sprawl.

"Aye, my dear wife, I love you madly, but do not think for one little moment that that fact somehow releases you from what's coming to you," he smirked, leaning over her slightly as he grasped the bed post. "You teased, you played, you pushed too bloody far, love, and now you'll pay for it."

Emma swallowed hard as a tremor wracked her body and she watched as Killian, with a deeper and more dangerous smirk, stepped away into the bathroom. A heavy, scraping noise announced his return a moment later as he dragged the chair they'd _sat_ in earlier that day.

_Oh shit, Emma. You played with fire._

Killian stopped the chair next to the bed and, meeting her eyes, began to undress, never breaking eye contact. She didn't move from the bed but propped herself up on her elbows, choosing to enjoy the show he was giving her. Unable to help herself, she licked her lips in appreciation.

"Emma, put your tongue back in your mouth before I make you use it," he growled low, releasing the final button on the velvet jacket.

She couldn't stop the grunt of satisfaction that left her throat at that delicious promise. "That's what I'm hoping for."

He shrugged out of his shirt, leaving his chest bare as he toed off his boots and began to work on his pants, a new grin on his face at the fact that she was so openly enjoying watching him. Finally, naked as a damn Roman statue, which had Emma's toes curling and her mouth watering, Killian slouched into the chair, looking all the world like debauchery, darkness, trouble, and piracy. You know, all the fun stuff. The absolutely sinful smile on his face only made it all the better and, with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, he crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to come closer.

Emma scrambled from the bed, kicking herself mentally for letting on just how unbelievably eager she was. He stopped her before she could climb onto him, however, and forced her to stand before him, his hand traveling up her thigh and finally reaching her softness where he had all the evidence he needed for just how turned on she was. Killian's mouth fell open in a silent groan as he felt how wet she was and his deliberate strokes soon had her knees quaking. Eventually, he stopped avoiding her sweet spot and with a press of his thumb against it, he slipped a finger inside of her.

"Killian!" she gasped, a moan quickly following, and she had to brace her arms on the back of the chair to keep from falling over. With the new proximity, he reached up and kissed her, open mouth and expert tongue, and so erotic, she thought she'd burst into flames. It didn't help that he decided to add a second finger and Emma whimpered into his mouth. Closing her eyes, she focused on what he was doing to her. Those fingers were magic and Killian knew exactly how to pluck pleasure from her, playing her like a damn harp, and she couldn't stop herself from grinding her hips against him. Her hands gripped the chair for dear life and her entire body shook with her approaching climax just as he picked up the tempo, pumping those fingers into her hard and fast.

"Killian. Killian, please," she moaned, needing him to push her over.

"I think not, my love," he said with a dark chuckle as he immediately withdrew from her.

She gasped and sputtered in surprise. "Wha- Killian! You bastard!"

He only smirked and stole a hard kiss from her mouth. "Oh, I see now," he laughed. "It's perfectly fine for you to take me high and then leave."

"Oh, dammit. Do you want me to beg?" she gasped, reaching between his thighs to take him in her hands, only to be stopped.

"Maybe."

A growl left her throat at his answer and how he kept her from touching him. "Screw you, Killian."

He laughed at that and in a quick move, whipped her around and tugged her down so that she was sitting in his lap. She gasped as she finally felt how hard he was as he pressed against her lower back.

The pirate nuzzled the way to her ear before whispering low. "Now, now, my luscious and wanton wife, that's hardly begging."

"Killian Jones, I'm going to ki-" Her own gasp interrupted her as he wedged his knees between hers and spread her legs wide, adjusting so he was dangerously close to where she needed him.

"You were saying, love?" he whispered huskily.

Emma growled again. "Dammit. Fine. Please, Killian. Please, just... you... inside me, now," she whispered.

With his arm around her waist, he picked her up slightly as his hand guided him to her entrance, and with a quick and rough buck of his hips, he seated himself in deep. Emma shouted in surprise, her body scrambling to adjust to his thickness.

"Is this what you wanted when you rode me earlier today?"

"Oh my God, yes!" she moaned.

"Good. Get to it then, love," he demanded with a slap to her hip, before that hand wandered up and claimed a breast, kneading and playing.

Smiling at their game, Emma quickly braced her hands on the arms of the chair and began to move, shallow at first, gentle, but increasingly becoming more and more heated as the fire built between them. It was absolutely the dirtiest thing she'd ever done, legs spread wide, still wearing her diamonds, hair a curly, wild waterfall, riding her pirate as he fondled her everywhere and met her thrusts as much as the position allowed him, and she could only imagine what they looked like. Maybe they should've got a mirror...

_Next time._

Emma was quickly getting there, already riding off the warm up Killian gave her and moans and whispered words of pleasure tumbled out of her mouth as he pressed kisses along her shoulder and neck and his hand slipped down to tease her. She was almost there, so close, and, dammit, she never wanted to stop, but it was too much, he was too good, the embrace was too hot, and his little moans were driving her furiously over the edge.

Her arms began to shake and Emma pushed herself to drive down harder, chasing her end the best she could. She had a good husband, though, and Killian gripped her tightly around the waist with both arms and took over for her as he pulsed his hips and dove into her body hard and fast. Emma felt like the sun exploded in her head as she rode through it right to her release and she threw her head back across his shoulder and screamed loud and long as her climax hit her like a storm, all electricity and power. Killian bounced her limp body a few more times before he slowed to a stop, far from finished with her, a fact that registered dimly on the far edges of her pleasure soaked brain as he quickly slid out of her, still hard, and took her to the bed, where Emma collapsed onto her stomach, unable to stand due to the violent trembling of her body. Killian quickly turned her over, handling her like a rag doll.

"Don't get comfortable, love," he growled as he kissed his way higher and higher up her inner thigh. "I'm not done with you."

"Oh, God," she sobbed, never wanting the night to end but truly wondering if she'd survive it.

Another of his chuckles reached her ears and soon he was there, his tongue diving right into her and tasting just how hard he made her come. Emma screamed again, her body so sensitive after her climax. He _was_ a ruthless pirate and gave her no quarter, instantly devouring her and just like that, she was drowning in him again. And she _was_ drowning. Emma had done this dance with her pirate before so she really should have been better at handling it all, but for the life of her, she could never get used to making love with him. To give herself a bit of credit, however, Killian was in spectacular form for this particular tryst. He was on fire and Emma was eating it up while trying, unsuccessfully, to hold on to her sanity as he continued to take her places only he could, making her blood sing and her body throb with pleasure.

A good couple hours later, Emma was screaming _again_, burying her face into her pillow to try and quiet it and behind her, rutting forcefully into her, Killian _finally_ allowed himself to succumb, his cry just as loud and earth shattering as hers as he came inside her trembling and thoroughly exhausted body. He stilled for a moment, save the very slight pumping of his hips, as he let his release wash through him, no doubt aided by her quaking insides, before he gently eased himself from her and collapsed on his back by her side, breathing hard and deep. Emma didn't move from her spot on her stomach. She was still trying to catch her wits which were bouncing around like Jack Russell Terriers in her brain. Her body ached the good ache, a sheen of sweat covered her skin, her heart was flying, small tremors still wracked her body, and her breathing was just as labored as her pirate's.

Her beautiful, amazing, stupidly talented, sexy, and unbelievable pirate.

_Fucking hell. No one should be that good in bed._

"You alright, sweetheart?"

She seriously wished she could laugh at that. Of course she wasn't alright! She was amazing! He'd seen to that! But she couldn't form words to tell him so she shook her head minutely, continuing to press her face into the bed.

"Emma, love, I didn't hurt you, did I?" he was worried now and his hand went to stroke her hair apologetically.

Emma shook her head again with a little more force. He most definitely didn't hurt her. She couldn't think straight and she probably couldn't walk to save her life, but he didn't hurt her.

"Dammit, Emma, please tell me I didn't hurt you."

Okay, she was starting to feel bad for worrying him, so she rounded up the few strands of sanity she could find and groaned her answer to him into the pillow. "If someone hadn't fucked my brains out, maybe I could! You didn't hurt me, you beautiful man, you."

Killian paused for a second to take in her answer and promptly burst into laughter.

"I'm glad you think it's hilarious," she chuckled dryly, starting to calm down just a bit.

Killian rolled closer to her, pressing kisses along her shoulder blade and lightly dancing his fingers up her spine. "I keep my promises, love. Now, what did we learn today?"

Emma turned her head finally, letting her meet eyes with her pirate husband. "That I'm going to give you more soaking wet lap dances."

He bit down playfully on her shoulder, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Just as long as you know the consequences."

A throaty chuckle escaped her and she lazily reached for his hook and brace, undoing the clasps. Killian let her, a somber expression taking over his face as she worked. Emma started doing this for him every night before they went to bed soon after they were married. He fought her at first, claiming the sight wasn't pretty and he could do it, but Emma fought right back. She'd seen the damage before and didn't give one damn. Eventually, he gave in, and she made it a nightly ritual, removing the thing and kneading and massaging the forearm that had to deal with the stifling brace day in and day out, a ritual she repeated now as, hook and brace banished to the bedside table, they crawled under the covers and Emma took his arm in her hands, working the muscles as they settled in, face to face.

"You know that thing we just did?" she asked after a moment, a grin tugging at her mouth.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Killian laughed quietly.

Emma gave him a look. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"

Killian closed his eyes and nodded with a delicious grin on his face.

She laughed and blushed a little bit, not used to talking like she was about to, but she wiggled closer to him, brushing her nose against his jaw as she spoke. "Well, you laid me on my stomach."

"Yes?"

"And then you got inside me."

His brows lowered in feigned deep thought. "I believe I did that a lot, love."

"And then you made me close my legs," she continued, letting her voice become breathy. "And I think you may have said something like, 'Emma, Emma, you're so bloody tight'," she imitated with a moan.

A low growl worked its way from his chest and he pulled her closer and kissed her. "You liked that, did you?" he asked against her lips.

"Mmhmm. We should definitely do that one again sometime."

"Whatever my lady wants. You'll hear no argument from me," he chuckled as he brushed her hair back from her face with his good hand.

Emma smiled and snuggled against him, her exhaustion really starting to kick in, and she was safe and warm and oh, so relaxed and satisfied. "I love you, Killian," she mumbled, sleep already pulling her under.

He tucked his head closer to hers and wrapped his arm around her, falling as fast as she was. "I love you, Emma."


	4. Chapter 4

Sunlight was pouring into Killian and Emma's room, announcing a brand new, early morning, but as Emma squinted at the super bright light, she thought it appeared to be more of a _late_ morning. With a big 'No, Thank You', she tucked her face closer to Killian's warm chest and found he was already awake as his arms squeezed her in a little hug.

"You never sleep in," she mumbled sleepily, smiling as his fingers threaded into her hair to hold her close.

"I have a beautiful, naked, warm and soft woman in my arms," he returned, just as drowsy. "I'd be an idiot to leave. Besides, I think you lazy royals are rubbing off on me."

"_I'll_ rub off on you," Emma groaned seductively and cuddled closer.

Laughter burst from Killian's chest at her very own innuendo, not nearly as subtle as his, but then, that was more her style.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About eight."

"Oh, good," she sighed, throwing a leg over his trim hips and pulling the thick, fluffy covers up to snuggle deeper beneath them. "Back to sleep, then."

"Aye, love," he murmured against her brow.

No sooner had they resumed their quiet cuddling, a loud knock sounded from the door, followed by David's voice.

"Are you two up?"

"No. Go away," Emma complained softly, making her pirate laugh again.

"What is it, Charming?" Killian called out.

"I need your help with something. It's important. I'll meet you two in the kitchen for breakfast."

Killian winked at Emma before he sighed and answered her father. "Fine, but it will take us a bit." With that he reached over them to grab the headboard and with a good flex of the muscles in his arm, rocked the bed a few times to get the creaking noise he was looking for. Emma threw a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter and immediately the sound of David grumbling angrily and stomping away filtered through the door.

"I think you just like getting hit," Emma laughed before stretching in bed with a groan. "Come on. No rest for the wicked."

Killian snorted a laugh at that. "Then you most _definitely_ are getting up with me, bloody temptress."

They dressed and readied for the day in silent companionship, the domesticity never failing to amaze Emma, or to warm her heart. Having no plans for the day except breakfast with her family, she ran a cool washrag over her face, combed out her still curly hair, and dressed simply. Her Enchanted Forest wardrobe was definitely going to take some getting used to, but it was comfortable and at the end of the day, that's all she cared about. This day she chose soft, tan pants that encased her legs and tucked into over-the-knee, brown leather boots which were quickly becoming a favorite. A supportive, brown leather vest sat over a simple white peasant shirt, the low bodice creating an enticing but tasteful amount of cleavage, and her small silver hoops were added to her ears.

A low whistle rewarded her from her fully-dressed, black clad husband, though he'd been taking a long break from his usual leather vest in favor of others, and Emma blushed a bit and held out her arms lamely.

"I guess it's okay?" she ventured.

Killian smiled as he appraised her with a very appreciative eye and finally pulled her close by hooking his index finger in the aforementioned cleavage for a quick kiss. "Aye, my love. A little more than okay, I think." He placed another quick kiss, this one on her brow. "Breakfast, lass?"

"Yes, please. I'm starving."

"Well, you had a long night," he teased and Emma chuckled as she linked her arm through his as they left their room for their day.

The kitchen was warm and inviting for the informal family breakfast. Soft and delicious smells of bread and sweet pastries mingled in the air along with the soft chatter of the cooks and that of David and Mary Margaret, already seated at the rustic, wooden table that was littered with fresh rolls, cheese, berries, and a little crock of butter. Charming shot the pirate a bit of a glare as Emma and Killian strode in with their good mornings.

"Relax, Your Highness. We weren't doing anything," Killian sighed, rolling his eyes. "She was still sore from last night."

Emma choked and flung the back of her hand out to pop her husband in the chest, earning her a grunt. Her father closed his eyes and breathed deep, no doubt trying to quell the murderous thoughts in his head. Emma knew he liked Killian at the end of the day, but Killian loved to push his luck. It was only a matter of time before David's fist met the pirate's pretty face again, the difference now was that they'd drink and have a good laugh about it and then everything would be fine, both of them getting it out of their system.

Snow only chuckled and rolled her eyes as she poured a couple glasses of milk from a stone jug for her kids. "Come on, you two. Bread's hot and there's a couple eggs for you."

Killian and Emma wasted no time, both exhausted and starving after their rather awesome night, and helped themselves and each other, wordlessly. A boiled egg each, a chunk of soft cheese for him, a couple blackberries for her, and a knotted bread roll for both. Emma took a pinch of salt from the bowl and passed it to Killian before he could ask her for it. They were getting good at this and Emma couldn't stop the tender smile that she felt light up her face.

The food was simple, but amazing, and Emma sighed contentedly after a bite of her egg and a sip of cold, fresh milk. Five months without coffee and she'd just about cured her addiction cold turkey. That first month, however, Emma could've sworn she was drying out like a crack addict, but she eventually got better. It helped that she had her father to commiserate with.

"So, Charming," Killian began. "What had you dragging us out of bed this morning?"

David took a gulp of his milk and from his vest produced a letter with a black, wax seal, tossing it to Killian. "This came in sometime during the party last night. I just read it this morning."

Killian popped the seal on the letter with his hook, unfolding it and reading as Emma read over his shoulder. The script was fancy, with lots of sass and flourish, and the words were formal. A long and extravagant welcome to the realm speech made the bulk of the letter, followed by the blunt point: These realms are mine. Don't get comfortable. Signed Captain Nathaniel Morris.

"Nathaniel Morris," Emma mused aloud. "Sounds like a gentleman."

Killian caught the joke and his eyes turned to her in that are-you-serious-right-now look he did so well. "Hardly, love. He's a nasty bastard. A true sonofabitch if there ever was one."

Emma smirked a bit at the fact that the pirate was picking up some of her speech, the cursing anyways, but the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned with the news, kept her from teasing him anymore.

"You know him then?" David asked. "From the last time you were in the land?"

Killian's face was seriously pensive. "Aye, I know him, but not from the last time I was here. From the time before that, before the bloody hook. Captain Morris should be dead."

"Could it be a successor, maybe?" Snow asked after a moment passed of everyone digesting that little detail.

Killian cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps," he said, examining the seal. His tone made it clear to Emma that he wasn't exactly buying that explanation.

"How big of a problem is this guy going to be?" Emma asked her husband as she tore off a piece of her roll. It was more than clear that his 'perhaps' was not a strong one and she trusted his instincts.

Killian met her eyes, conveying the answer better than his words. "Bit of a problem."

David sighed and reached for Snow's hand. "Want to fill us in, Killian?"

Killian's eyes focused on the table as he began his tale, having to reach far back into his memory for the story. "I was fairly new to the job of Captain when I met Morris. You lot call me pirate, but trust me, I've spoiled you. I'm a bloody angel compared to him." He paused, taking a moment to sort the details. "Morris was the bloodthirsty, vicious, brutal sort. Rape, pillage, plunder, murder, with as much damage as possible. He approached me, offered a partnership. The Jolly was well known for her enchanted status, I was a young Captain ready to take some prizes, and with Morris for a partner, I'd be sure to get them in addition to some firepower at my back if I ever needed it."

"So, you took the deal and it went bad?" David piped in.

Killian rolled his eyes at his father-in-law. "Just like you to think the worst of me, Charming. No, I didn't bloody take the deal. I had a code. I _still_ have that code. Doesn't mean I didn't cause my share of trouble, but the lads and I were out for a good time while we robbed the damn kingdoms blind, not destruction and blood spattered mayhem. We sailed, we drank, we pillaged, sure. But we honored surrenders, struck fair bargains, paid our bloody doxies, never forced a one, and left them breathing when we were finished!" Killian was starting to get mad at the memories and his eyes burned with blue fire. "His brand of piracy was _not_ mine. I turned him down without a second thought. Morris, of course, was not happy and challenged me. I won. If he's still alive, and I suspect that the slippery bastard is, you can be sure that he'll raise as much hell as possible."

"Do you think he knows you're still alive?" Emma asked.

Her husband chuckled darkly. "Don't worry yourself about me, love. He may or may not, but if he was in the area, he couldn't have missed the Jolly. Should at least spark his curiosity."

"Plus," Snow added. "His note seemed more concerned with warning us, not Killian."

David and Killian looked at each other for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Feel like sailing?" David finally asked.

"Always," Killian said, grinning like a wolf.

"I'm going with you," Emma quickly stated, her mouth full of bread. Killian looked at her, about to say something about the danger factor, no doubt, but she shook her head and shut him up with her resolved eyes. "Come on, Killian. Who's the bounty hunter here? You or me?" she chuckled. "I'll show you how it's done."

Killian smirked, unable to hide just how pleased he was with the arrangement. Emma liked to think he was glad to have her as a partner and that she'd proved that she could handle herself in dangerous situations.

"No," David interrupted, grabbing their attention. "I'm not putting a bounty on him yet. He won't go down without a fight and I'd like to avoid bloodshed if we can."

"What do you need me to do then?" Killian asked without hesitation. Emma smiled a bit to herself at how willing Killian was to help. Loyalty ran deep in his blood and she knew that despite the bickering, the prince and the pirate were good friends.

David smiled in acceptance of the ready help. "Scout for me? Not far, just the nearby coasts, and if you meet with him, tell him to back off or the next time I _will_ be sending you to collect his head."

"Diplomacy. Yay," Emma cheered dryly.

Killian smirked at her lack of excitement. "We'll set out this evening."

"Thank you," David said earnestly. "And take care of each other, okay?"

* * *

It was an early start for them then. Killian left not long after breakfast to round up the Jolly's crew and get her ready for the night cruise, leaving Emma free to spend some time with Henry and let him know the plan. They'd let him stay up as long as he wanted because of the party and Emma had to try a few times to wake him, offering him a glass of milk and a sweet roll when he eventually opened his eyes. It was temptation enough and Henry was soon up and proposing plans to go show her the wild horses as he munched on his breakfast. Apparently, Neal had taken Henry to watch the horse trainers work a few times and Henry loved it. Emma was unable to deny him in his excitement and after Henry ate and got ready in a flash, they were off to town.

A few hours later, Emma and Henry were still lounging in the soft grass beside a large, fenced off area where a huge black horse, its coat shiny and lush, was giving its trainer all the hell it could. The stallion stamped and tossed its head, avoiding the rope like it was diseased, and Emma was seriously impressed with the amount of patience the trainer had. The guy really knew what he was doing; she'd already seen him make progress with a couple other horses while they watched. It was a good idea and she was happy and having fun spending the day with her son.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that Killian and I are going to be gone tonight," she said. "And maybe the next couple nights, too."

"What's up?" Henry asked, pulling his attention from the stubborn horse.

"It's not a big deal," she answered him. "But David asked if we'd check around nearby just to make sure there aren't any-"

"Pirates in the water?" Henry finished with a teasing smile.

Emma laughed. "Well, yeah. You know, besides _ours_."

Henry giggled at that. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Promise," she smiled.

They returned their attention to the center of the pen just in time because the big, magnificent animal was finally allowing his trainer close enough to stroke the silky black nose and whisper soothing words to it. Both Emma and Henry watched in awe until, just like that, the spell was broken and the spirited thing was prancing around the fence line and tossing its head as if to say "I don't want to like it, but I do!" making Emma and Henry laugh at the abrupt change.

Henry's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly and mother and son had another round of laughter.

"Hungry, kid?" Emma asked, nudging Henry playfully. They'd been out for a while and it was well past lunchtime.

"Yeah," he nodded with a sheepish smile. "Do you mind if we go back home?"

"No problem, kid. Let's get out of here."

Waving to the trainer, they set off back for the castle, Henry gushing over the horses and talking excitedly about what he was going to eat, and it brought a huge smile to Emma's face to hear him so happy. The kid had taken to the Enchanted Forest like he was made for it.

The road they walked to get back to the castle was still just dirt, but a good amount of buildings flanked it, and people were scurrying about their businesses, shopping, selling, trading, talking and laughing, and children ran and played with happy noises and shouts following them. Emma spotted a little dark headed girl sitting in the street playing with a doll just as the sounds of distant, frantic yelling reached her ears.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Emma saw the street clearing of people and heard the warning shouts before she discovered what the commotion was. That stubborn black horse was loose and barreling through, trying to get its freedom. Taking the split second she had and fueled by adrenaline, Emma pushed Henry to safety, hollering for him to stay put before she dashed for the girl in the road, scooping her up and carrying her out of harm's way just in time, the wild horse missing them by a hair as it galloped by.

Huffing with the exertion, Emma leaned back to see the girl, who could be no more than six, to make sure she was alright, finding wide grey eyes open in shock.

"Oh, my God, thank you!" a young and stout woman cried, making her way to them through the crowding people, her hand over her heart.

"Are you mom?" Emma asked and got a hurried nod.

"Thank you, thank you, so much," the woman repeated, out of breath from worry and her rush to reach her daughter. "She's got the sight but sometimes she can't see things right in front of her."

Emma's brows crunched at the woman's words as a flushed and adrenaline high Henry appeared and spoke for them. "What, like she's psychic?"

The mother shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it. She just sees things sometimes that seem impossible."

Emma glanced at the girl and gave her a friendly smile. She was a pretty thing and her clear grey eyes seemed to be searching Emma for something.

"Could you watch her for a second?" the mom pleaded and Emma realized that the woman's arms were weighed down with some baskets of bread. "I just have to deliver these and then I can take her home."

"Sure, I can do that," Emma agreed.

"Do you need some help?" Henry asked brightly, reaching for a basket.

The woman seemed stunned for a moment but she smiled warmly and handed over one of the overflowing baskets.

"Okay, sweetie, you're getting heavy," Emma laughed as they left, setting the girl on her feet and taking a knee to put her at eye level. "You okay?"

The large eyes were still trying to peer into Emma's eyes like she'd find something but she remained silent.

Emma sighed but smiled softly for the girl, rearranging her long brown hair. "That's okay. When I was your age I didn't always want to talk either."

After a good beat, the girl spoke up, the voice small but strong. "Nimue."

"Pretty name," Emma said. "I'm Emma."

"Pretty name," the girl returned making Emma's grin widen, knowing that Killian would get a kick out of the little cheeky thing.

Before she could ask the little girl any more questions, Nimue's still searching eyes turned sorrowful and tears instantly filled the grey depths. "Oh, no," she groaned softly.

"Hey, what is it?" Emma asked gently, alarmed at the sudden change, but the girl ran for her fallen dolly a few feet away. She'd dropped it when Emma carted her away from the danger. After fiddling with the doll for a moment, she ran back to Emma, a crude, necklace in her tiny hands.

"This is for you," she said. "It's lucky. You _have_ to wear it!"

Emma was seriously more confused than ever before but she obediently took the necklace, worried that the girl might hit her if she didn't. Nimue was _that_ serious about it. It was nothing more than a soft, brown leather cord attached to a smooth, dark grey river stone as its pendant. Emma brushed her thumb over the rock, the words 'worry stone' coming to her mind. It was actually kind of nice and Emma smiled at the girl in thanks as she slipped it over her neck, watching as the girl sighed in... _relief_?

_What the hell is going on here?_

The girl turned as they both heard her name called to find her mother waving her over, Henry trotting back to _his _mother.

"I have to go," Nimue said. "Wear it!" And with that, she grabbed dolly and sprinted to her mother.

"Thank you!" Emma called after her, still not sure what had just happened, and lifted the rock to examine it some more. It was nothing special but Emma liked the color and the smoothness was comforting.

_Shouldn't be a problem to wear it for the little girl._

"What's that?" Henry asked.

"She gave it to me. I was thinking it would make a good worry stone."

"What's that?" Henry asked again.

"You rub it when you're worried instead of pulling your hair out," Emma explained lightly.

Henry laughed at that. "You got your happy ending, mom. What do you have to worry about?"

That was a good damn question and Emma shrugged it off for her son, but inside she couldn't help but hear Rumplestiltskin's words from the night before and wonder, yet again, if her spot of joy was just the calm before the storm.


	5. Chapter 5

_Welcome back for another chapter! UGH THAT MIDSEASON FINALE! So dead. Here's some fic to get us through. Hugs and Love - Dani_

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set as Emma threw her legs over the rail of the Jolly Roger, Killian following right behind her. Until suitable docks were built, they still had to row out to their second home, a second home that was a lot more populated than Emma remembered. She'd never seen the ship with a full and proper crew.

"Madam," came a polite greeting drawing her attention to a tall, slender, young man, not bad on the eyes, with floppy, brown hair and deep brown eyes. He was sharply dressed, a bit along the lines of Killian, but the kid actually liked colors besides black. Unlike her husband, however, the kid favored a well cared for brown tricorn which, after respectfully removing it for her, was placed at a dangerously handsome angle, low over his eyes. A friendly smirk graced his face as he stood from his shallow bow. There were a lot of tough looking sailors on board, but this one with his boyish face did not scream pirate.

"Emma," Killian said, sweeping his hand towards the kid. "May I introduce Sean Farren. Quartermaster."

Well, that was certainly a shock, not that she would ever doubt her husband's ability to pick a crew, but Farren was not exactly what she was expecting for his right hand man.

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain," Farren said offering his hand.

Emma met the shake with a smile. "Nice to meet you, too. You old enough to be a pirate?"

Farren busted with laughter as Killian grinned and chuckled beside him. "Aye, ma'am. Despite my face, I assure you that at four and twenty, I am. It's not all bad, though. The ladies like a pretty face."

Emma laughed at that, realizing that the kid must have reminded Killian of himself. They certainly had the same flirt game going.

With a friendly slap on the back, Killian gave his instructions to Farren, who immediately snapped into action, hollering orders in a voice that was both calm but brooked no refusal and the sailors obeyed at once, scurrying about like the pros they were to set sail.

"Come, love," Killian said, leading her up the stairs of the quarterdeck. "I have something for you."

They climbed down into their cabin and once inside Emma threw herself onto the bed with a content sigh. She'd missed the thing even though it was tiny. It was comfy, it was home, it smelled like Killian, and, God, were there memories forever burned into it! A heavy wooden box landed beside her interrupting the heated scenes that were running wild in her mind and she sat up to check out her present.

"What's this?"

"Well, you have to open it to find out," Killian replied dryly with a playful roll of his eyes.

After slugging him gently in the arm, Emma flipped open the golden clasps of the polished, wooden box, about the size of a briefcase, and opened the lid. She gasped, then chuckled, with surprise.

"I know you have an affinity for firepower," Killian said a bit hesitantly as she lifted the beautiful flintlock pistol from the lush, velvet lined case, examining it delicately. "And I know it's not the firearms of your world but your father assured me he'd already shown you how these work."

Emma couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she checked out her new toy, complete with a black holster she could attach to her belt alongside her sword. The gun itself was gorgeous in a way that should just not happen with weapons. Dark, gleaming, rich wood was embellished with ornately stamped silver and the case held all the other necessities of shot and powder. David _had_ shown her how to use one during the months they'd been in the Enchanted Forest and, though it was a process, she had to admit it was kind of fun.

"You're good with a sword," Killian continued, "But I figured, why not? Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she beamed. "Thank you. Where did you get it?" she asked, beginning to load like she remembered David teaching her.

"I picked it up a long time ago in some seized ship. I liked it but never used it. Once I got the hook, dual wielding with a pistol was a bit out of the question and I've always preferred the sword in any case," he explained. "I had her cleaned up by a blacksmith in town. She works just fine."

Emma placed the gun gently back in its case and tackled him, kissing him fiercely and long before he couldn't help himself and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Emma demanded with a smile.

"You're the only woman in the world, lass, that would, not only appreciate a firearm as a gift, but would reward me _so _well for it!" Killian exclaimed before sweeping in to kiss her again.

Emma giggled into his mouth, steadying herself against his solid body as the Jolly began to slowly cut her path through the water underneath them.

* * *

Night settled on the world like a heavy blanket. The sea was calm and stars glittered across the surface of the water, the ripples of the Jolly's silent path spreading across the black depths. Not one torch burned for stealth reasons and those bright lights in the sky were the only thing illuminating the way. It was heavy, dark, peaceful (Save the looking for danger part) and Emma couldn't decide which she liked better, sailing at night or day.

The crew was alert and about, silent as the night, a big change from when they first set sail before the sun set. They were a fun bunch, who liked to laugh and tease, dirty jokes coming to them like second nature, but they were good men. Emma could see that in every one of them as she was passed around for meet and greet as Killian watched and laughed from the helm with Farren. She was never in safer hands for none of the men would dare disrespect her, that good men thing she mentioned, and the part where she was not only the Captain's wife, but Captain herself. The fact that they were all hand picked by Killian was another proof for their quality. She'd spent what was left of daylight laughing with them and getting to know them, beginning to build a rapport as she tried her best to remember names and faces.

As night fell, however, they were scary, waiting and ready for anything and everything with swords ready, dangerous eyes, and a fierce determination to protect their ship written in every twitch of restless muscle. Farren was at the helm, his own face dark and watchful, and Emma stood with Killian on the quarterdeck, keeping vigil over the still waters behind them.

She glanced at her husband and noticed the hard set of his jaw and wariness in his eyes. "You're tense," she whispered.

"I've got a feeling," he returned low. "Someone's in the water with us. I don't like it when I can't see them."

His hand casually brushed over her hips, reassuring himself for about the hundredth time that night that she was armed.

"I'll be fine, Killian," she said patiently.

Before he could apologize for being such a worrier, a shattering of glass was heard and a booming voice broke the quiet night air. "Captain Killian Jones! Blast me, it's _such_ a pleasure!"

Killian and Emma spun around, his arm automatically flying out to guide her behind him except her sword was already drawn and she was in her stance, like him. On the opposite side of the quarterdeck, they found the source of the unfamiliar voice, noticing that, except for them, the entire crew was suspended in time, frozen, as the tall, broad pirate intruder, who somehow appeared on deck, took in the sight with a bit of amazed appreciation. Emma recognized immediately that the man wasn't used to whatever magic he was wielding.

In the brief moment she had before business, Emma took in the pirate from Killian's past. Pirates don't look like pirates, she was slowly learning, or at least not how she'd always envisioned them. Captain Nathaniel Morris (For, who else could it be?) looked to be the same age that Killian did, but where her pirate was dark featured, Morris was fair. Long, light blonde hair was gathered in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, the length reaching his lower back, and bright green eyes sat in his head. He was clean shaven, wore just as much leather as her pirate, but brown, and his coat was short, stopping at his hips. He was tall and broad like a brick wall. A long, jeweled earring hung from his right ear and the sword in his belt, still sheathed, had the most ornate hilt she'd ever seen with its silver, scrolling cage work and inlaid rubies. He was handsome, and the only flaw was the deep, ancient scar that ran from above his eyebrow, over his nose, and then his cheek. He reeked of vanity and pride, that mane no doubt his pride and joy, and his face would've been, had it not been for the scar. Despite his look, Killian's warnings about the man were not far from her mind. Pretty boy, sure, but this was clearly nobody to mess with and the hard and cruel look in his eyes which belied his friendly greeting, told of a darkness and villainy that Emma had yet to face in her life so far.

"Funny," Killian began evenly. "I don't remember giving you permission to come aboard."

"Well, there's a very good reason for that, Jones," blondie said with a shrug and an almost charming smirk. "I didn't ask. I must say, for a man well over three hundred, you look good."

"I could say the same, Nathaniel, if it wasn't for the face, of course."

The pirate's eyes turned murderous before he managed a cruel smirk. "Good. You remember."

"You were always a pain in my ass. Of course I remember," Killian sighed sounding bored, more of Emma's cursing handed over. "Thought you'd be dried up and dead by now. How the hell did you live so long?"

"Oh," Nathaniel chuckled and Emma took note of the slight narrowing of his eyes, though she didn't know what it meant yet. "That's my secret. I certainly didn't go gallivanting off to Neverland like some people. By the way, that's an interesting substitute for a hand you have there."

_Oh, no, sir, you did not._

Emma had enough and she stepped forwards, aiming her sword dangerously at the pirate. "While I love catching up with old pals as much as the next person, you're starting to piss me off," she growled.

A wide grin spread across Nathaniel's face as he took her in with one sweep of his eyes. "Tough lassie. I seem to recall that you always liked them with spirit, Jones." His eyes crept up her body slowly, making Emma's skin crawl, before he glanced at Killian. "Aye. Right fine piece you've got on your hands. Well, hand." He chuckled at his wit and let his voice become whining. "Sweetheart, do you even know what you're doing with that thing?"

_Oh, fuck this guy._

Emma reached with her free hand and drew her new pistol, primed and ready to go, and leveled it alongside her sword. "Between the two of these, I might just get lucky."

Nathaniel raised his hands in mock surrender. "By all means, lassie. You're obviously here for business. What can I do for you?"

"Get back to your ship, wherever the hell it is, and sail far away," Emma demanded instantly.

The borderline teasing and lightheartedness vanished completely as Nathaniel glared at her before turning his hard eyes to Killian. "You going to let a woman handle your business?"

"She does a damn good job," he replied and Emma could hear the cruel smirk in his tone. "These waters are no longer yours, Morris. Leave."

"Well, alright then," Nathaniel sighed dramatically. "But shouldn't I get some sort of compensation? Something to sweeten my departure? I might have a few suggestions," he added, licking his lips at Emma.

Only Killian could do that move correctly and Emma, her anger increasing every second with this scumbag, took another step forwards, hovering the tip of her sword in the direction of the pirate's throat.

"Does your magic-live-forever-stuff work if your head's no longer attached to your body?" she asked darkly.

He laughed, good and hard. "Jones, my boy! She's fire in the sack, isn't she? Come! I need details!"

"Stand down, Morris," Killian growled, definitely out of patience.

"Oh, Jones," he sighed, his laughter dying off. "I was here to make you a proposition. There's wealth in this land again. New villages, new wenches, new treasure! But it seems you're just as boring as the last time."

"Aye," Killian said. "You'll forgive me, but murdering innocents and destroying villages was never my idea of fun."

"You'll regret it, Jones."

"I somehow doubt it," Killian said low. "Now, you heard the woman. To your ship and leave."

The pirate's face went livid, all teasing and lightheartedness gone. "No man tells me where I can and cannot go, and especially no woman either," he said with a glare for Emma. "I don't care how sinful she smells." Nathaniel started stepping backwards toward the side of the Jolly. "We're not through, Jones. Mark my words."

Finally finished, he produced a small glass vial from his jacket and threw it at his feet, releasing the red smoke inside as it shattered. When the smoke cleared, he was gone and the crew was released from their suspended state in confusion.

"Nasty sonofabitch," Emma said, looking at her husband whose face was a special kind of anger.

"Aye," he clipped before he yanked her close by means of her jacket. "I really wish you wouldn't do that, Emma. I bloody well know you can take care of yourself but you scare the hell out of me sometimes!"

"Well, I'm not going to just sit around and listen to that bullshit!" Emma defended. She reached inside his coat to stroke his side, let him know she appreciated the concern. "Do you think he'll listen?"

Killian thought about that one for a moment. "He will for a while, but he'll be back. Farren!"

"Aye, Captain," he responded respectfully and quickly.

"We did what we came for. Keep the crew alert, but make for home," Killian instructed. "And take your time."

"Aye, sir."

"Any special reason you want him to take his time?" Emma asked suggestively once they returned to their cabin for the night.

Killian glanced at her and laughed. "Honestly, love, I wasn't thinking of _that_, but now that you mention it..." he tapered off as he drew her closer, pressing a hundred kisses on her hand. A laugh bubbled from his lips and he teased her fingers with his lips before he answered her seriously. "It's been a full month since they've been at sea and as a sailor, I know they miss it. But before you get any thoughts in that pretty head of yours, no, I do not regret my life with you."

Emma stood guiltily under his eyes, because that is exactly what she wondered.

"They all knew the terms when they signed up," Killian continued. "And they all accepted their posts after understanding three very important things. One of them being that our lives are lived on land as well as at sea, the amount in each varying."

"What are the other two?" she asked with a small smile. Truly, she loved this man and the amount to which he loved her never ceased to amaze her. He changed his entire life for her.

Killian returned her smile. "We're no navy but we're loyal to your father's kingdom. And that my wife is just as much Captain as I am. Her word is law just as mine is."

"Maybe we need to find another reason to sail soon. Something longer, maybe?" Emma suggested before she stretched up to kiss him lightly. He met her and demanded a little more as he pressed against her.

"Are we going to talk about the magic thing?" Emma asked as she pulled away breathlessly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Bloody bastard. As if him escaping death for three hundred years wasn't enough. Somewhere along the line he gets himself some magic powers." Killian moved away to search through the cabinets containing his logs.

"Yeah, but it's pre-packaged magic," Emma shook her head. "Wonder where you pick that stuff up."

Killian looked at her closely as he chose a worn volume. "You think Rumplestiltskin is working with him?" he asked, but it was more statement than question.

Emma shrugged. "Maybe not working with him, but he likes his deals. What if Morris made one?"

"It's a possibility," he agreed, searching for something in the ancient book.

"But it's not like we can just ask him," Emma said shaking her head. "And Gold would have no reason to give us any details. So, I guess, at least we have a little better idea of what we're working with."

"True," he said.

After a quiet moment of Killian searching through his logs, Emma's curiosity was too much to bear. "So what's the story with his face."

A small grunt of laughter left his chest. "Told you I won."

"I knew it!" she hollered before erupting into pleased giggles. "That should _not_ be that sexy!"

Killian glanced away from his book to wink at her before diving back into it. "Howling Bitch," he finally said after reading for a while.

"Excuse me?"

His signature trouble maker grin lit up his face. "Not you. I have other names for you, vixen. It's the name of Morris' ship."

Emma chuckled in good humor. "Classy."

"Aye," he said, tossing the book on the rich, wood table in the room with a sigh. "What's our next move, love?"

"You're asking me?"

Killian's face snapped to hers looking a bit confused. "Why wouldn't I ask for my wife's advice?"

"Because you've lived longer than me and you know this world better than I ever will."

"Bah," he scoffed with a grin. "Trifles. I ask for your advice because you're intelligent and shrewd. And I happen to value your opinion."

Emma smirked to hide her blush. "If Rumplestiltskin _is_ working with Morris, I think it's best not to alert him that we're suspicious. We just play stupid, keep our eyes open, and wait to see what his next move is."

Killian stepped close and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Aye, aye, Captain," he whispered. His fingers ghosted down to her neck where they found the leather cord she was wearing. Curiosity flooded his face and he pulled the smooth rock pendant out of her shirt. "What's this?"

"A little girl gave it to me," she explained, trying to kick back the strangeness of that meeting. Surely it was nothing. "I like it."

"It's only a rock," he complained playfully.

Emma laughed and snatched her necklace back. "Not all treasure is gold and sparkly, Killian."

He nodded eagerly before kissing her brow. "Yes, my love. Believe me, I know."


	6. Chapter 6

_Just wanted to take this moment to thank everyone for the reviews and for reading. I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas! - Dani_

* * *

Only two weeks later, Emma and Killian got their wish of wanting to sail again. Morris hadn't made any more appearances, didn't send any more notes, and the still baby kingdom was relatively quiet, save the trolls.

The trolls were becoming a problem.

Not only were they boldly sending letters with their scratchy and practically illegible handwriting, demanding payment from David and Snow like crazed tax collectors or the worst landlords of all time, but they were beginning to focus their attacks on the villagers. Kidnappings were becoming way too common and the ransom notes were brutal and demanding of anything and everything, gold, bread, shoes, whatever.

It was another of these ransom notes, sent to a family of four from the village, that had the father of that family, a farmer, requesting an audience with the regents, that started it all.

* * *

Mary Margaret and Emma were in the palace cellars taking inventory and updating the ancient ledgers. It was truly a pretty neat setup and Emma was thoroughly impressed. The cellars sat deep beneath the castle, so deep that they were below sea level, and the surrounding ocean and decent depth kept the place cool and perfect for storing food. Enchanted Forest Frigidaire, but no ice cream, sadly. When Emma asked about the possibility of flooding or leaks, Mary Margaret smiled and gave her a patient look. Magic. Of course. No wonder it was almost too impossible, but oh so wonderful.

Their provisions were bountiful, even after the large party weeks before, and fresh game came in all the time from the surrounding forest to keep them well stocked in the meat department. The kitchen staff made daily trips to the town's markets and vegetables were beginning to make the trip back with them as the farms began to flourish. Most non-meat ingredients were still the results of foraging the forests. Roots, berries, mushrooms, the most common additions to meals, and the small amount that they had were stored appropriately. Booze was never a problem. Bottles of ancient wines and champagnes sat in their holsters, ready to go, and a few large kegs of ale were on hand as well. They had flour and sugar, jams and honey, all perfect, untouched by time, and even some dried fruits, better than candy.

"I can't get over this," Emma sighed, slumping down to sit on a barrel of flour.

Mary Margaret in her long, flowing dress of dark green silk, chuckled as she added the total count for barrels of cured pork to her large, leather ledger. "It is pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"You could get lost in here!"

"Well, just wait until she's _really_ stocked someday. This is a bit low, but we'll make it."

Emma laughed. "God, I hope so. This has just made me hungry."

Snow came to perch next to her. "Well, it is getting close to lunch. I could send a messenger for the boys, see if they need a break."

"Sounds good," Emma agreed just as one of castle hands burst into the cellar.

"Your Highnesses," he said with a short, respectful bow. "There's a man here requesting to speak with Prince David and Princess Snow. His wife has been kidnapped."

"My husband's out," Snow responded, standing. "But I'll speak with him in the audience hall. I'll be there shortly."

The messenger bowed again before hurrying off and Mary Margaret turned to look at Emma. "Want to come help me?"

"What can I do?" Sure, she used to be Sheriff but this Enchanted Forest thing was just a little bit different.

"You don't have to do anything," her mother quickly assured her. "I just, I mean... I know you don't like this, but... you _are_ a princess, and someday you might have to do this on your own."

That was a damn terrifying reminder, but Emma gave herself a less scary one: She _did_ used to be Sheriff in Storybrooke and she'd worked with criminals and the law for a long time. Surely, she could do this.

"Okay, yeah," she nodded. "I'll go."

Snow smiled tenderly. "Don't worry. I'll do all the talking, I promise, but if you think of anything that might help, feel free to cut in!"

Emma returned her mother's smile. Mary Margaret was doing her best to not pressure her with the royalty thing, doing her best to understand the culture shock Emma was still experiencing daily, and while she couldn't help her mothering tendencies, they'd rekindled a bit of their old friendship since coming to the Enchanted Forest as Emma learned a bit more about Snow White in her element and Mary Margaret realized that her daughter was a vastly different woman than she'd always imagined she'd be, a little harder, a little more cynical.

Snow led the way upstairs, through the castle, and into the audience hall. It was an impressive sight, much like everything else there, but it lacked the frills and adornments of the more elaborate halls and rooms in the palace. This room was for business and it was used only for such. Tall windows let light filter in from the outside which glittered on the only extravagance in the room, the two thrones, one for a king and his queen, or a prince and his princess as was the case. Their golden framework and lush, deep red cushions provided the only real color in the room except for the long, red rug stretching from them to the grand doorway. A small wooden desk sat near the thrones with paper and quills at the ready.

A humble man in simple clothes, his age no more than mid thirties, stood on the royal red carpet, halfway to the thrones, looking anxious and hopeless as he wrung his straw hat in his hands. The servant who'd sent for them stood with the man and as he saw Snow and Emma arrive, nudged his charge to get his attention.

"Richard Smith, Your Highnesses," the castle hand indicated as both men bowed.

"Richard, I'm glad to meet you," Snow greeted gently, rushing to shake his hand. "Though, I'm sorry it's under the circumstances. Tell me what happened."

"Thank you, milady," Richard replied softly before taking a deep inhale to steady himself. "I awoke early to tend my field. My wife, Sara was still asleep and I didn't want to wake her. She'd been up all night with the wee one. I was only gone for a few hours and when I returned she was gone. This letter," he said as he handed over the ransom note, "was stuck to my door. I don't know what to do! I don't have anything like what they're asking for!"

"I know, Richard. It's going to be alright," Snow soothed as she scanned the note. Emma peeked over her shoulder to check the price. It was absolutely nothing a villager could afford and included a nice little tidbit about the consequences should payment not be made.

"But they said they'll kill her if they do not have the money by this evening!"

"I know, I know," Snow said patiently, but firmly, and Emma stood in awe of just how good her mother was at interacting with and helping her people. "They've never sent a ransom note this serious before. We will put up the money for your wife. I'm sending you with the money and an armed escort to make the exchange. George!" she hollered and the servant stepped forward.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Snow made her way to the small desk in the room and began to write with one of the long feathered quills. "Take this note to our steward and see that he packs a chest with the funds necessary for the release of Richard's wife. And take this one," she said, snatching another piece of paper and writing furiously. "To town for Robin Hood asking him if he can provide a few men for protection during the trade. You'll have to ask around. I'm not sure where he's at today."

"He'll be working on the treestand on the north end of the village," Regina chipped in, appearing out of the blue.

Had the situation not been so serious, Emma might have raised an eyebrow at the lady. Instead, a childish voice in her head started silently singing.

_Regina and Robin, sitting in a tree..._

_Later._

_She'll kill you._

_Won't be the first time she's tried._

Mary Margaret didn't falter, although Emma knew she had to be thinking the same, and nodded at George as she handed over the two letters. "Treestand, then. And take Richard with you, please."

"Yes, ma'am," George replied as he accepted the notes and bowed once again.

"Thank you!" Richard cried, absolutely floored by the generosity. "Thank you, so very much!"

Snow smiled gently and shook her head. "Don't worry. It's all going to work out. Now, go."

The large wooden doors closed behind the farmer and George as they left and Mary Margaret's shoulders slouched, slipping out of her regal carriage. "We won't be able to pay everyone's ransom," she sighed unhappily. "Something has to be done about these trolls!"

"Agreed," Emma said. "We've got bounties on them and the ogres but they're getting us more than we're getting them."

"And the protection dome Emma and I had when we first arrived would be too big to maintain now," Regina added.

Snow sunk tiredly into one of the thrones with a deep sigh and a moment of quiet thought presided between the three women until Snow couldn't handle it anymore.

"So... Robin, huh?"

"Don't make me put you to sleep again," Regina growled but Emma caught the way her lips almost twitched with a smile and the faintest hint of pink on the Evil Queen's face.

"Holy shit, are you blushing, Regina?" Emma teased.

The smile was getting too much to contend with but Regina put it down like a pro. "I will end both of you."

Snow and Emma couldn't take it anymore and erupted with laughter. Eventually, Regina's smirk won and she rolled her eyes in her best attempt to appear disgruntled. She failed.

"Come on," Mary Margaret cajoled her. "I'm happy for you. Really!"

Emma thought the queen would just ignore them but after a moment she managed a mumble. "Nothing's been said."

"But you like him?" Snow pressed.

"Mind your own business."

It was snapped but the look on Regina's face told the truth. Begrudgingly, maybe, but she was having fun and Snow and Emma giggled with good humor but released her from any more torment just as the door opened again.

"Your Majesty, Your Highnesses." The newest servant bowed to all three but addressed Snow. "The Blue Fairy is here and wanting to speak with you."

"Blue Fairy?" Emma growled. "_Now_ she wants to come and see us?"

To say that she was a _little_ irritated with the sudden visit would be putting it way too mildly. The fairies hadn't been seen since everyone left Storybrooke! While they were struggling in those super early days of returning to the Enchanted Forest and really could have used some magic makers besides Regina and herself, the stupid fairies were nowhere to be found! And _now_! Now when they were starting to get on their feet, they show!

Snow sat up in her chair and Emma knew she wasn't the only one annoyed. "Let her in," she said in the same tone that said, 'Sure, let her in so I can slug her'.

"Ugh, must we?" Regina groaned, propping an elbow against the empty, golden throne.

Emma smirked but it was short lived as their guest made her entrance. True, it had been a while since Emma had seen Ole Miss Mother Superior, but she was definitely thrown off guard as the lady _flew_ in, all tiny, and fairy like, and... blue.

"Got your wings back," Snow grumbled.

_Oh, yeah, she wants to hit you._

"Yes, Your Highness," Blue said in a voice so annoyingly flowery now that she was her small little self. "We all did."

"Well that's great," Emma said scornfully. "Because we really could've used some help a few months ago. But I'm glad you were getting your pretty little fairy dress and sparkly wings back."

Blue had the decency to at least hang her head in shame. "We know that we shouldn't have abandoned the kingdom. We see that now, but we're here now and we'd like to help."

"Help with what?" Snow droned lazily. Emma had never seen her mother like this and while she knew there was more to the woman than she'd learned even in all their time together, it was still shocking and a bit entertaining to see it.

"The trolls. We know the problems they're causing and well..." she hesitated, "There's a legend."

"A legend?" Regina scoffed. "For a second there I thought you were actually trying to help."

"There's a crystal in the land that shines a light that is rumored to repel all those who wish harm. If it were to be retrieved and placed in the castle, it would keep the ogres and trolls and anything else sinister away," Blue explained, ignoring the heavy looks of doubt she was getting.

"A rock that glows," Emma summed up, unimpressed.

Her mother giggled. "You _are_ in Fairytale Land now, Emma."

"Good point. Where is this thing supposed to be?"

"This map," Blue explained as she magically produced a worn, aged map on the table for the three normal sized women to gather around. "The small island you see there between the two coasts is the rumored location. Somewhere in the woods of that place is a tower. The crystal should be there."

"And where is this island?" Regina asked coldly.

"Somewhere far to the South according to the legend," Blue shrugged, still hovering in the air in a way that seriously starting to bug Emma.

_Where's a flyswatter when you need one?_

"Oh, gee thanks, Tom Tom," Emma quipped dryly before looking to her mother and Regina. "Ringing any bells to you guys?"

"I don't know and I'm no expert with maps," Snow said, shaking her head before a smile chased the pensiveness from her brow. "But my son in law is."

A messenger and a few minutes later, Blue left, unable to handle the chill in the room from Snow, Emma, and Regina, and the boys were busting through the double doors rolling in laughter. The sound of Killian so happy always made Emma smile and she stood in her place, hands on hips, waiting for him while Snow hurried up to David to lay a big fat kiss on his lips. Killian approached Emma with his lingering laughter and smile and stopped a foot in front of her, the two of them staring each other down playfully, seeing who would move first, until he crooked his finger and she obeyed, closing the distance between them with a small kiss. Like she could ever deny him when he did that!

_Pretty eyed bastard._

"So, what's this I hear about the fairies being back?" David asked. "Hey, Regina."

The queen nodded her greeting and Snow took the lead in filling the men in on everything from that morning, the trolls, the frighteningly aggressive ransom note, her solution, and the appearance and suggestion of the Blue Fairy. Both Killian and David listened with a bit of an edge on their faces during that part. The abandonment by the fairies was noted and not appreciated by many.

"Where's the map, love?" Killian asked when she was finished and after he was given it, poured over it with intelligent eyes.

"Look familiar?" Emma questioned.

"Um... aye," he said, scrunching his face in thought. "This coastline does. I'd have to check some of my maps, but I know nothing of the legend or the tower that is supposedly there, despite my years. But then again, I did spend most of those in Neverland."

David thought for a moment, everyone waiting for him, before he slid a side-eyed glance to Killian. "Suppose we may as well try anything at this point."

"I thought you'd never ask, mate," Killian offered with a mock bow. "It'll probably be a few months, however, and I'd like to-"

"I'm going with you!" Emma interrupted.

Her husband laughed. "I'm glad to hear it, lass, considering that's just what I was about to suggest. We can take Henry for this one if the lad's willing."

"Uh, I don't-" Regina began, only to be interrupted by the boy in question as he entered the hall.

"No way! I can go?" Henry shouted excitedly. Obviously he'd heard quite a bit of the conversation.

"Wait just a minute," Regina said. "Is no one going to run this by me? I don't think I like the idea."

"Come on, Regina," Emma pleaded.

"No!" the queen said, putting her foot down. "Months? And we don't know what's in most of the world anymore after the curse!"

"Regina, he'll be well taken care of between Killian and I _and_ the crew!"

"Guys!" Henry yelled, interrupting them before the argument could get any worse. He looked to Emma before he spoke in a voice that was trying to calm everybody down. "It's okay, mom. I'll stay here." And then he looked to Regina. "But _next time_, I'm going." Facing Emma again, he continued. "Besides. You and Killian never got a honeymoon, so this will be good!"

"A quest for a rock?" Emma asked sarcastically. She knelt down to his eye level, worry on her face, and spoke for his ears only. "Are you sure, Henry? Because... I don't want you to think I'm leaving you because you know I would _never_ do that, right? I love you, kid."

"I know, mom," Henry smiled. "I love you, too."

Emma pulled her son in for a hug, holding him tightly as she glanced up at Killian who gave her a small smile.

"Well, I guess that settles it," David sighed. "When do you set sail, Captain?"

"Three days should be plenty of time to ready the Jolly," Killian answered. "We'll pull out that morning."


	7. Chapter 7

_Special thanks to Val (morecolorfulmoniker) for helping to prompt me for the last section of this. I think it really helped me round out the chapter, so thank you, Val, and thank you to everyone reading and leaving me such wonderful reviews! -Dani_

* * *

Those three days flew by, and before Emma knew it, it was the night before their departure. The small, wooden chest of basic clothing she'd packed had already been carted off to the Jolly earlier that day, she'd made sure she knew what her son would be up to while they were away, they'd packed the Blue Fairy's map and compared it with Killian's to get their heading, and now she had nothing left to do but wait until morning. She was excited but also a little deflated at the fact that she'd be leaving Henry and her family for so long. It should only be about four months, Killian assured her, always attuned to what she was worried about, and despite the chunk of time, she _really_ _did_ want to go on this adventure with him. That was their thing, after all, ever since the beanstalk. Besides, Henry was right. It would be a little honeymoon, well, despite the crew, which she laughed about, but in the very private Captain's quarters and their tiny bed and plenty of time on the open water, they were sure to get in as much alone time as they could ever want. Her curious spirit was also longing to see what else Fairytale Land was hiding, knowing she'd be making mental notes of all the things she wanted to show Henry the next time.

Emma didn't have too much longer to wait. It was late and she was already in her PJ's, some cotton shorts and a plain, dark t-shirt, relics from Storybrooke, and she decided to go check on Henry. They'd spent a good deal of time together over the last few days, watching horses again, exploring the nooks and crannys of the castle. Killian taught them both a dice game and they ate it up, playing for hours. Henry was a bit of natural and amazed even the gambling veteran that was Killian Jones who teased and promised that when Henry was older, they would up the stakes from pebbles and beans to real "glitter". It was all time well spent, making memories that would last her the trip and in her last night home, she just wanted to tuck him in and say goodnight.

Barefoot, she padded her way through the quiet castle to Henry's room, the plush rugs cushioning her toes, and she happily recalled the first day they'd set foot in the restored fortress. Everyone was excited and rushing about that first time, but Henry probably had the most fun as he sprinted through the fortress, threw open doors, and exclaimed at all the sights. The room he finally claimed as his was huge, of course, and had gigantic tapestries of knights on horseback riding into battle and shelves upon shelves of books, most of them containing stories about heroes, magic, and plenty of happy endings.

Turning the corner into the hall where Henry's room was, Emma shook her head gently as she realized that her boy was still awake. The door to his room was ajar, light poured out into the hallway, but before Emma could come closer and escape the nighttime shadows of the castle, she spotted Killian entering her son's room, coming from the other end of the hall and oblivious to her presence.

"Hey Killian!" she heard Henry greet him happily. "What's up?"

"Just wondered if I could have a word with you, lad," Killian answered.

"Sure."

Emma hustled quietly to stand close to the door, prepared to eavesdrop. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Killian and Henry to speak. No, they got on together very well, but as far as she knew, Killian had never sought him out privately and perhaps the conversation wasn't for her ears, but she was going to listen anyways.

She heard her husband take a deep breath before he began whatever speech he'd prepared. "Henry, I know you're a smart lad and I know that you know my story-"

"You're worried that I'll think you're stealing my mom away," her son interrupted, his voice blunt but patient.

"Told you you were smart," Killian laughed lightly before becoming serious again. "It's the very last thing I'll ever do, Henry. I'll never take her from you; I swear it. I simply wished for you to know that. I know I am not your father, lad, but as I love your mother, I do consider you my family, and like your mother, I won't ever leave you behind."

"Killian," Henry sighed. "Chill. I know all that. And even though I'm a kid, I know how much you love her and how happy you make her, and that makes me happy because I love her too. While you two are gone, I'm going to spend time with Regina at her castle, and then I'm coming back to see my dad, and then I promised Leroy I'd help build some more houses. I'm _busy_!" Henry emphasized making Killian laugh again. "Besides," he continued, "I know you guys wanted to take me with you. Just take me for the next one."

"Absolutely," Killian agreed immediately, a smile in his tone. "You're always welcome aboard, Henry. If we can only convince your mums."

Emma overwhelmed with emotion on what she was hearing, ventured to peek inside the room just in time for Henry to give Killian a big bear hug and for her husband to falter, unsure of what to do for a moment, until he hugged her son back like the good stepfather he was.

"Yeah, we may have to work a bit on Regina," Henry laughed. "Take care of my mom, Killian, and you be careful too."

"Aye, lad. I'll do my best."

Wiping a tear from her cheek, Emma let her boys have their moment and hurried back to her room before she could be discovered.

* * *

Hours later, Emma was wide awake in a sleeping Killian's arms as she continually replayed the scene she'd witnessed. How was it possible that she could be so lucky? She had her son, who _loved _her, and her husband, Killian, who _loved _her, not to even mention her parents! Had anyone told her when she got out of prison years ago and slowly became more and more hardened, that she'd not only get to be with her son again some day, but that she'd have everything she ever wanted, family, a home, love, she would have laughed and then hit that person, because it was impossible! It was unthinkable after the life she'd lived, orphaned and lost, unloved and unwanted, that she'd end up exactly where she did, exactly where she landed after the hell that was her life. Her very own fairytale, complete with happy ending.

Memories of birthdays marked alone, Christmases spent shutting her windows to the all joy in the world, running from anything and everything that spoke of motherhood, failed relationships and worthless attempts to be cherished even the smallest amount, stampeded through her mind and clashed with all the things she finally achieved. It was so much and she was so happy and overpowered with it all that she began to cry.

_Dammit._

Deep down, Emma knew she needed it; she wanted to bask in her happiness even if it reduced her to tears. Surely, she'd earned it! And at least nobody could see. She was safe under the cover of darkness, but in that darkness and the nighttime silence, everything was clearer, everything was heavier, and it was already heavy enough.

As silently as possible, Emma cried out her emotions, her love for her son and how thankful she was to have him in her life, her home with her family, those parents who, even though they were the same age as her, loved her in only the way parents could, the way Emma had needed all her life. And then there was Killian! She still didn't understand how it was possible for him to love her like he did. What the hell did she do to deserve him? He was everything! He loved her, he treated her like she was his very life, he could be every lover imaginable and he always knew what she needed. He was her partner, standing by her side, never to leave her, and he loved Henry, that part of her, and took great effort to befriend him and care for him. With all these happy memories, of course, came the bad ones. The time she lost him, watched him die, drown right before her very eyes, hit her like it just happened, along with the knowledge that someday she'd have to go through some version of his death again, and that's when a silent sob wracked her body ever so slightly.

Emma froze at her mistake. Killian wasn't normally a heavy sleeper and this night was no different. She woke him and he nuzzled closer. Closing her eyes and praying he'd go back to sleep, she cringed when she felt him finally lean up on his elbow and turn her over, his hand reaching up to feel the tears on her face. That spooked him.

"Love, what's wrong?" he whispered urgently. Emma couldn't answer him. Here he was taking care of her again, loving her again, and the tears wouldn't stop so she lamely shook her head. "Emma," he said, a serious edge to his tone. "If you want to stay here with Henry, I understand. Don't go with me if it makes you cry, love. Please!"

Emma shook her head stronger this time, trying to force herself to speak so that he wouldn't run with that completely wrong idea. "No, Killian," she managed between her gasps for breath. "It's not that. I just... I really, _really_ love you, okay?"

"Eh?"

"I'm not upset!" she exploded, tears still soaking her voice. "I'm fucking happy!"

"What?" Killian yelped before releasing an exasperated sigh. "Bloody hell, love, you don't _look_ happy!"

"Just trust me on this. I really, _really_ love you and I'm really, _really_ happy!"

"Seven hells, wife," he sighed, lowering his forehead to hers and stroking her face, her arm, her hair, anything to try to soothe her. "You've only ever cried like this once, in Storybrooke when you thought I was leaving you. I confess, I have no idea what to do with these tears."

"Neither do I," Emma said, a small laugh breaking through her tears. It_ was_ a little funny, she admitted, crying like this and giving Killian a heart attack.

He sighed again, not irritated, just at a loss, and began to press light kisses all over her face, from her brows and temples, to her lips and her jaw. The saltwater of her tears disappeared into his mouth and they dried up all together as he whispered to her, telling her that he loved her, that she was beautiful, that she was his home, and a hundred other lovely things, until finally, exhaustion took her, and she fell asleep in his arms, wrapped in love.

* * *

It was an early start for them the next day and Emma and Killian said their goodbyes to Snow, David, and a sleepy Henry after a quick breakfast of fruit and warm bread in the kitchen. Reassurances were given that they'd take care of themselves and return home safely and soon they were out of the castle, up on horseback, and on their way into the forest.

"Could be wrong," she said after she sat in confusion for a few moments, her arms wrapped around his torso. "But I think the ocean is the other way, sailor."

"Your intelligence never ceases to amaze, love," he sassed.

Emma laughed. "Seriously, where are we going?"

"Up," he said, stopping next to a large tree and dismounting before helping her to do the same.

Treestands were quickly becoming a major part of the kingdom's security system, thanks to Robin Hood and his men for the idea and their supervision of construction. The stands sat high up in the tallest trees with a team of lookouts that kept watch for anything and everything, enemies as well as friendlies. Only a few of the tree houses were completed and manned, and more were in the process.

"Okay. Why up?" Emma asked, peering up into the branches.

"Woman," he huffed. "Get your lovely arse up the tree. I want to show you something."

She snorted her laughter and gave in, moving to the ladder leaning against the tree. "Okay, okay. Geez. Usually you let me get my exercise in more enjoyable ways," she joked as she started to climb.

Killian smacked her on the butt and laughed. "Which is why we're taking the lift and not climbing," he said as he moved to some hanging ropes near the base of the tree. "I've a need for you to be _well_ rested."

Emma watched with curiosity as he slipped his boot into a loop at the end of the rope and gripped the thing with his good hand. A jerk of his head motioned her to come and join him and she snickered happily as she threw an arm around his neck, another around his waist, and added her foot to the loop. A shrill whistle from him directed to the top of the tree was the signal and a man looked over the edge of the tree house and waved. Only seconds later, they were ascending at a gentle pace and within just a few minutes, they reached the top, greeted by the handful of soldiers manning the station and the pulley system that made the easy ascent possible.

The lookout was larger than she imagined, large and circular, with an inner room holding weapons, provisions, and was a place to hide from the elements. A wraparound walkway surrounded the hut for patrols and watches. Before Emma could take in any more of the details, however, Killian's hand was suddenly over her eyes and he was guiding her to where he wanted her. She wasn't scared of heights, per se, but knowing how high they were and not being able to see was making her legs wobble. Killian's arm was strong around her waist, however, and that made it bearable.

"What are you doing?"

"Patience, love. Almost there." A few more steps followed before he stopped her and turned her shoulders to face the direction he wanted. "Alright," he said gently, removing his hand. "Open your eyes."

Emma did and the sight took her breath away. They _were_ high up and the view was incredible. A sea of tree tops spread before her, the snow-capped mountains stood strong in the background, and since the kingdom was so close to the ocean, she had a fantastic view of that as well, all sparkling and blue and stretching out to the limits of her sight. Never, in all her life, in all the places she'd been, had she ever seen something so awesome.

"This is amazing," she breathed, realizing at the same time that her jaw had dropped.

"I knew I had to show you this the first time I saw it, love." Killian squeezed her tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I know that your life has been hell, love, and that you gave up every comfort of the world you knew to come here. I was hoping that you'd see this and feel like it was worth it, that you'd see your new home, your freedom, and I hope, your happy ending, too. Our trip will be a bit long I'm afraid, and I wanted you to get a good look at what you've won for yourself and what you have to come back to."

A couple of tears squeezed out of her eyes and down her face as he spoke. The novelty of making the rest of her life in the Enchanted Forest was a fact that was never lost on her, but she experienced a healthy stroke of disbelief standing above the trees, realizing again that such a beautiful place was to be her home forever and ever. And who _cared _about electricity and the comforts she once had? She had them but she never had love and family. _That's _what made a home, made a life, and made it worth it. And here, in her own fairytale, she had both and so, _so_ much more. She had a future and she had hope in it.

Emma shook her head softly. "No," she said as she turned around in his arms. "Now I'm getting a good look at home."

Killian smiled gently. "I think you missed the point, m'dear."

"No, I didn't," she said returning his smile. "I love living here. It's been amazing even though it's a hell of a culture shock, but it wouldn't matter where I was as long as you were with me. _You_ are my home. You're my hope and my future. And if you keep making me cry, I'm going to punch you," she croaked.

Their lips met, Emma wasn't sure who moved for it first, but it didn't matter, because they both needed it. They needed something more than words to express the things only their hearts could say and do justice to.

Pulling back, Emma wiped at her tears before she placed her hand over her husband's heart and gave him a big smile. "Shall we?"

"Aye, my love," Killian responded, placing another brief kiss on her lips. "But I have one more thing for you."

He reached into his satchel and withdrew a small rolled up bit of parchment, handing it to her. Unable to check her curiosity, Emma unrolled it immediately and gasped in surprise as she found a perfectly drawn picture of her son, laughing and happy.

"I asked Bae for a favor," Killian explained. "He was more than willing."

Emma smoothed her hand over the picture. It was a perfect likeness of her boy. "So, you two are getting along?"

Killian nodded. "We had a good discussion about everything not long after I returned and we married. I think he might finally forgive me."

Emma reached up to his face to stroke it lovingly, knowing all too well how much history and hurt dwelt in that particular relationship, and just how much in meant for Killian to have even the tiniest amount of reconciliation with Baelfire.

"Thank you, Killian," she said earnestly. "For everything."

"Shh, love. No need. Are you ready?"

She beamed at him, excited and in love. "Following you, Captain."


	8. Chapter 8

The Jolly was a good ways South after about a month at sea and Emma was straddling the bowsprit, enjoying the ocean air and the wind in her face like it was her very first trip. And really, it _was_ the first time she could truly let herself enjoy sailing. Neverland was a shit storm of bad, one thing right after the other, the escape from Storybrooke was short, rainy, ending in a freefall through a portal, and the night cruise from a month prior was dark, also short, and resulted in a run-in with a not so nice pirate. But this! This trip was perfect! Well, okay. She would be the very first to admit that it was _not_ a glamorous life in the slightest, but though her blood was tinged princess, Emma Jones was just as capable of roughing it as anyone else and she found that she truly loved the ship. The ship _and_ the crew.

The crewmen were quickly becoming another family to her. Hard not to grow close to people you share tight spaces with for extended periods of time, but they were fun! Rowdy, always laughing and joking, playing cards or dice, singing as they worked, the call and response taking over the ship and the surrounding waters, the men were constantly a flurry of activity and entertainment. And as hard as they played, they definitely worked hard too. Work hard, play hard. These boys (_M__en, _Killian liked to edit while playfully pretending to be exasperated with her affectionate name for them) lived it. Emma always knew that Killian picked a good crew, but never was that fact more clear to her than on this trip. They followed orders, kept the ship in shape, and had a damn good time doing it.

Emma had worried, given the length of the trip, that she might end up being bored from time to time, but so far, that never happened. Once she showed an interest, a very excited Killian sought to teach her anything and everything she wanted to know. So, more sailing lessons were given, along with Beginning Navigation Principals, Introduction to Wind and Sails, How to Tie Knots for Dummies, and Emma devoured the knowledge, both out of her want to learn and also because she loved Killian being her teacher and that seriousness that took over his brow when he showed her something. At night, before turning in, they poured over star charts so she could learn the world's new constellations and how to find them. Killian's knowledge far exceeded the books, however, and he often had to sketch a sky for her that none of his charts contained, just the one in his head. The maps were like that as well and since they were so ancient, Killian was slowly beginning to update them or re-draw them completely if they were falling apart. Emma hesitated when he'd asked if she'd like to help, warning him that she was no artist, but he soothed her concerns and showed her that it was a simple job, just darkening the faded lines, copying over to new parchments, or marking the locations of cities and villages that simply didn't exist when Killian was in Fairytale Land three hundred some odd years ago. Like she said, not a glamorous life in the least bit, but those moments when they'd sit at the table in their cabin, both quietly working on their tasks as her feet rested in his lap, and he occasionally reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear, were quickly becoming precious to Emma. Equally as precious as when they'd fall asleep in their tiny bunk, eyes and hands tired from their work.

It was a good life with Killian, more than she ever hoped for, and Emma smiled wide as she watched for the promised coastline. Her husband was with Farren at the helm, no doubt awaiting the same. He wasn't sure if the port still existed, Regina's curse and all, but they'd both agreed that if the town still stood, it was a good place to stop and give the men some leave time to relax for a night or two. It sounded more than great to Emma. While she'd enjoy some solid ground again and a night to kick back and chill, what she was really looking forward to was a decent bit of food. All the Jolly stocked, for practical reasons of course, was salt pork, salt beef, salt this, pickled that, and biscuits so solid, you could kill a man with one. Killian loved to remind her what an excellent pirate she made, but dammit, that didn't mean it was all fun and games. She wanted _food_ and she wanted a drink that wasn't rum laced, tepid water, and if the town still stood, she'd get it. Just as her mouth began to water in anticipation, the cry from the crow's nest rang out announcing land and Emma carefully left her post and trotted her way to the quarterdeck so she could get out of the way, the men tipping their hats and greeting her with ma'am's as she passed.

"Captain," Farren said, addressing her with a mischievous smirk. "Are you sure yonder Captain knows what the bloody hell he's doing? Not much survived that curse."

Emma laughed. It was one thing she was learning about their quartermaster. He often playfully tried to start trouble with a big goofy grin on his face the whole time. Killian knew it too and after lowering his spyglass, he rolled his eyes and leaned against the rail, crossing his arms.

"I told him he could go find another ship if he doubted me so very much," Killian said dryly.

It was Farren's turn to laugh. "Just a bit of fun, Captain. I know very well how much the land began to thrive again out of nowhere."

Emma and Killian's eyes met and a tiny smile passed between them as they remembered the beanstalk, Emma's first visit to the land, a time when everything began to flourish again according to the stories, not to mention the more recent True Love's kiss with her little dose of magic mixed in. It wasn't something that was common knowledge, however, and Emma liked it that way. She'd been called 'Savior' a little more than she liked.

The Jolly approached land swiftly and as more of the shoreline came in sight, the outlines of buildings became more and more clear. With another quick glance through the spyglass, they confirmed that it was indeed a thriving town, much to the happiness of everyone on board. Killian gave his orders to Farren, who in turn gave them to the crew as Killian took over at the wheel and proceeded to give Emma a lesson in docking, or, as she lovingly named it, How to Park a Big Fucking Boat. Under his supervision, it was almost too easy, though she doubted she'd ever feel comfortable enough to try it on her own.

Successfully docked, the excitement on deck reached a low roar as the men felt the siren call of the port tavern and its much craved tankards of ale and plates meat, but before anybody could get any crazy ideas, like skipping out without being dismissed, Killian checked them. As awesome as they were, they were still a young and new bunch to the Jolly and its Captain.

"Oi!" he shouted, grabbing their attention and demanding their silence. "Nobody leaves this bloody ship until she is sparkling, aye?"

A round of hearty 'ayes' answered him followed by almost comedic scurrying, and when Killian turned to face her, Emma had the biggest grin on her face.

"You know you're sexy when you do that, right?" she asked.

Killian smirked and threw her a wink before he offered his arm and led her to the gangplank and off the ship. No sooner had their boots met the dock, a young man, probably no more than eighteen approached Killian. He was tall, but lanky, his clothes were poor, but well-kept, and thick sandy blonde hair got in his deep blue eyes, it was so long.

"Captain?" he asked hesitantly.

"Aye, lad. What do you need?" Killian asked, not unfriendly, but businesslike.

"I want to join your crew."

Killian nodded and Emma knew that he was already aware of the boy's intentions. "Know anything about sailing?"

The boy shook his head. "Not on a ship like this, I only know fishing boats, but I'm good with a sword and I tie a strong knot."

"Swords, eh?" Killian said with an eyebrow. "What does a fisherman know about swordplay?"

The boy grinned sheepishly. "Just a way to pass the time, Captain."

Killian regarded the boy for a moment, weighing the decision. "What's your name, lad?" he finally asked.

"Bradley Wir," the boy said.

"Few things for you to consider. First," Killian said before gesturing to Emma. "My wife sails with us as much as possible and she's Captain just as I am. We're loyal to Prince David and his wife, Snow White, in the Enchanted Forest and we spend time on land there as much as we do at sea, sometimes more. Can you live with these?"

The boy looked confused for a moment. "Begging your pardon, sir, but you and your crew don't look like royal navy."

Killian smirked. "We're not, but our loyalty to the kingdom is mutually beneficial. Yay or nay, lad?"

"Yes, Captain," Wir said eagerly. "I still want to join."

"Right," Killian said, still in his Captain's voice. "Ship pulls out two days from now at noon. You're late, you're left. We'll see how you do and if you're not fit, you're off the next time we dock. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" their new sailor said with a big smile. "Thank you, sir. Ma'am," he added with a tip of his head to Emma.

"Check in with the quartermaster. He'll get you situated."

Emma slipped her arm through her husband's again as they walked the docks, headed to the bustling town. "Mutually beneficial?" she asked dubiously.

"Aye," he said, his voice returning to the playful one she loved. Hell, she loved them all. "I run the occasional errand for your father and he doesn't kill me for bedding his daughter."

She busted up with laughter at that one and the two of them made for the rather large tavern right next to the docks, the two pirate Captains in town for a good time.

* * *

The Crowned Crow Inn, as the sign indicated outside, was a chaotic, but warm and fun place once the Jolly Roger crew came in and made themselves at home. The owners were thrilled to have so many new paying customers that were generally well-behaved, if not just a little loud in their pursuit of a good time. And a good time it most definitely was.

A fiddle player with his drummer friend sat in a corner and played throughout the night, some of the sailors earned or paid for (Emma wasn't sure which) dances with some of the barmaids, while a few snuck off for other sorts of dances behind closed doors. A roaring fire kept the place almost too warm in the early days of Summer, but the cool night helped to keep it from being stifling as did the refreshing ocean breezes slipping through the open door and windows. A boar turned on a spit tended by a teenaged son of the keepers, and Emma learned that she was actually a big fan of roasted, wild pig.

_Yum_.

_Hell of a pirate_, she laughed to herself as she lounged in a corner of the pub with an earthenware mug of beer. Reveling in her good mood, she propped her feet up on the round wooden table she sat at, because,why the hell not? It was so strange, the whole thing, but Emma was having the time of her life. Good food, good beer, and she was comfortable and happy. Never in a million years could she ever have imagined such a scene for herself and the big smile on her face only grew as she heard her husband's laughter ring out from the table a few feet away. He and some of the boys were playing dice and as the drinks flowed, their mirth was louder and the betting was more intense. Emma was still new to the rules so she was perfectly fine with sitting out and holding her money safe in the brown leather pouch on her belt.

Taking another sip from her mug, Emma glanced back at the table and her content smile disappeared immediately.

A tall, curvaceous barmaid was waiting on the table full of sailors and while all those sailors were eager to get her attention, she only had eyes for the Captain. Emma couldn't blame the woman there, but dammit, the Captain was _hers_. Emma was never one to dwell on her looks. She looked how she looked and she was fine with it, but it was impossible not to make comparisons between herself and the young barmaid working hard for a scrap of attention from the darkly handsome pirate. She was only human and the woman was pretty, dammit! Thick, lightly curling brown hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and down to her lower back, while large, dark eyes sat under thick, long lashes on a face of smooth caramel skin, sensual lips, and good teeth. The lady was well aware of her assets and at every opportunity, she tried to entice Killian with some cleavage as she bent over to retrieve a mug for a refill. Killian, by the way, was completely ignoring her, which didn't surprise Emma in the slightest. She knew her husband loved her, knew he was a good man, and she knew that as much as he could absolutely destroy her body with his attention, he knew she could do the same to him.

Eventually, the lack of progress began to bother the shapely girl and she had to up her game. It wasn't long then, before she was leaning over Killian with the pretense of reaching for a glass so that she could brush her chest against him and draw back with an inviting smile. Emma's jealously shot through the roof and the realization of the strange emotion stunned her. As she tried to adjust to the little green, okay, _gigantic_, green monster, she continued to watch the woman bat her eyelashes enticingly as Killian continued not paying a bit of attention to her. Emma felt both incensed and silly. She had no reason to be jealous and she knew it, but she wanted nothing more than to waltz over there and yank the girl by the hair before rearranging her face. The barmaid damn near sealed her fate when she boldly slid her hand over the pirate's shoulders and down his chest. Before Emma could consider zapping the woman with a healthy dose of magic like she was an ogre, Killian snatched the woman's wrist and passed her to Farren sitting beside him, shoving the girl's hand to the sailor's chest, a sailor that _really_ loved his Captain.

It was that thought that made Emma's rage chill and she managed a small chuckle at Farren's obvious joy. The girl was disappointed but Farren was a cutie and soon she was more than okay with the new arrangement. Emma sighed at her own foolishness, finished her beer, and decided that she could use some air.

The tavern was right next to the docks so Emma just took a short walk outside to breathe in the ocean, leaning her forearms against one of dock pilings and staring out into the soothing black night and water. The wind caught her hair and she took a deep breath, exhaling all the murderous thoughts and letting the cool, salty air lift her dark mood. She'd never really been properly jealous before, especially of a man, but even though she knew she had nothing to worry about, it did make her think. Would Killian regret marrying her now that there was something so tempting in front of him?

She only had about a minute to chew on that before there was a hook between her breasts, _hooked_ in the peasant shirt and leather vest she wore, a hand around her waist, and a man's hips pressed against her backside in a way that made her smile wide.

"You alright there, lass?" Killian asked her as he pressed a couple of feather-light kisses on her neck.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, enjoying the attention. "Needed to cool off before a very pretty brunette died."

Killian froze for a second before he flipped her around. "Are you jealous?"

"Don't sound so damn happy about it," Emma grumbled.

"Emma, I'm not interested," he explained seriously.

"I know that! But she _is_ pretty! I thought maybe you might have at least a little bit of regret that you couldn't take what she was offering."

Killian rolled his eyes. "Aye, she's pretty, but you far outshine her, love."

She groaned. "Oh, stop it. I wasn't fishing for compliments."

"Don't care," he said quickly. "You're going to hear this, Emma."

"No, don't. I'm fine. Just-"

"Hush, woman," he demanded gently as his hand came up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I've told you a thousand times and still you have no idea how bloody beautiful you are, Emma."

"Killian-"

"Your eyes, Emma," he continued as he barreled through her protests. "Whatever emotion passes through them, those green eyes are stunning. I'm a pirate and I've never seen an emerald to match them. And your lips, love," he breathed, his voice carrying a tinge of awe. "I shiver when I think about the things you've done with those lips and how perfectly tender that bottom one is. Ah, there it is!" He lit up as she felt the blush spread across her face. She couldn't take this. "That blush, Emma," he murmured and smiled. "Do you realize that I know exactly how far it reaches down your chest? Do you know how much I love it when that color spreads across you, whether you're blushing or flushed from our lovemaking?"

"Killian, stop," she pleaded weakly. She wasn't disliking this at all, but her face was on fire.

"No madam, I won't," he said softly. "You will listen to me tell you how soft your skin is, how I can taste it in my sleep. That in those months I spent away after we left Storybrooke, I dreamt of running my fingers through your blonde hair and feeling your arms around me. I missed your deadpan voice almost as much as the sound of you screaming my name in passion. And Emma," he groaned a little as his hand slipped down to her back and then further to her butt, where he squeezed. "It does things to me to see you bend over in these tight pants you so prefer, but even that doesn't come close to the sight of you when you laugh and smile. You stop my bloody heart, lass."

Emma's eyes stayed locked on his shoulder; she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Warmth swirled around inside of her at his words and the more she dwelt on them, the more she absolutely could not stop her blush, because it was a happy blush.

"Are you done yet?" she grumbled, trying and failing to sound angry with him. Instead, it just came out embarrassed and shy.

Killian laughed. "Not even close, but I'll spare you, love." He pulled her face up to look into her eyes. "Nothing could tempt me from you, Emma. You are the only woman who makes my heart beat like it does. Only you will do for me."

She felt the fresh blush course through her and she hid it by reaching up and kissing her pirate, wondering what in the world she'd ever done to deserve him and praying she would never lose him.

"Come on," he said playfully, nipping at her jaw and neck. "Let me show that wench where my tastes lie."

"K," Emma grinned. "I want another drink anyways."


	9. Chapter 9

_I strive for weekly updates but sometimes I get so excited and post more often. Do you guys mind? _

_Okay, so there's some allusions to other things in this chapter. I had a bit of fun. ;) Thanks for all the love in the reviews! - Dani_

* * *

The pit stop at the port was a perfect little break from the Jolly. After just two days they were back to sailing, much to Emma's delight, actually. The little bed she shared with Killian was small but it was theirs. The constant rocking of the ship was comforting and she was so accustomed to it, it was almost hard to walk on solid ground. The wind in the sails, that beautiful noise they made as they flapped and filled and the constant crushing sound of waves and the ship cutting through the sea was the best music, and the night sky was clearer at sea than at any other place in the world. No, the Jolly was a much loved home and Emma was glad to back to their journey, even with the less than luxurious lifestyle, that much was certain.

Another couple weeks passed. Emma learned more, Killian was beginning to quiz her, and the ocean seemed to reward her for her progress. More than once she'd watched in ecstatic awe as dolphins ran alongside the Jolly and even once she saw a gigantic whale, nearly as large as the ship herself. Killian just laughed happily as she lost her mind at the amazing sights, enjoying them with her and thrilled with her reactions. Emma truly understood why he and the rest of the crew chose to be sailors and were so devoted to the profession, so when they dropped anchor at their destination, a small, wooded island with a rock shore and without a dock to its name and the slightest hint of the tall tower peeking above the trees from somewhere deep within, Emma was ready to get out, get done, and sail again.

The job was easy. Get to the thing, grab the thing, leave with the thing and head home, so Emma and Killian rowed out alone to the shore, and after Killian consulted Blue's sparkly, glitter infested map and the sky above, they were off, disappearing into the thick forest.

It was impossible for her not to think about just how many times they'd done this, trekking through trees, on foot, looking for some _thing_, for some damn reason and she laughed, getting her husband's attention.

"Is walking our thing? Because I'd like a different one," she said.

"I always thought our _thing_ was something else," he chuckled suggestively.

"Mmm, you're right," Emma sighed happily as memories flooded her brain and made her flush with pleasure. "Speaking of which, I have an idea for next time."

"And I cannot wait to hear it, my delicious wife, but are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" Killian asked a little breathlessly as he stood still and peered deeper into the woods.

Emma followed his gaze and noticed the change in the trees, a change in color. "Is that..."

"Pirate, love," Killian chuckled in amazement. "I know bloody gold when I see it."

"Wait. So, they're trees of gold?"

He grasped her hand and grinned at her like a kid finding a candy store. "Let's go see, shall we?"

An excited laugh left her throat and they broke into a run, hand in hand, for the golden trees and once in their midst, stopped and gaped at the amazing golden wood. There were all varieties of trees, some holding jeweled fruits or small gemstone nuts, but each one was solid gold from its branches and bark, to its leaves and twigs. The grass was green, soft, and lush under their feet, the kind that makes you want to take off your shoes and sink in your toes.

"This... this..." Emma stuttered.

"Yes madam it is," Killian sighed with pleasure as he ventured to a tree and plucked an emerald pear from the branches, kissing it reverently before he tossed it to her. "In the bag, m'dear."

She laughed as she caught the "fruit" and after examining it, stuffed it in the satchel before moving to a golden tree of her own. Reaching up for a small branch, she grabbed it and let her weight snap the thing, a small bit of golden twig to go with her pear. Emma threw another excited look to her husband who was doing the same as her before her eyes traveled further into the forest, finding another impossibility.

"Killian, how do you feel about silver?" she asked wryly.

"What care I for silver when I've a bloody golden forest, love?" he scoffed, stuffing his own satchel with a few chunks of gold and some sapphire walnuts.

"Because there's a _bloody_ silver forest over there."

"Where?"

"Come on!" Emma laughed, grabbing his hand and running to the next layer of trees.

The silver wood was no less impressive than the golden one, however the gold trees would be her favorite, and they plucked fruit and small branches from those trees as well to take home. They were making plans on returning with the crew to haul out more treasure after they retrieved the magic crystal when their eyes found yet another forest, a forest of what else, but diamonds.

"What the hell is this place?" Emma gasped as a sparkling oak leaf found its new home in her increasingly heavy satchel.

"I have no bloody clue," Killian breathed. "In all my years, I've never so much as heard of such a thing, let alone seen anything like it."

"We're going to sink the Jolly trying to take all this back."

Killian shrugged. "We'll make a few trips."

Emma giggled at the complete insanity of it all. What was her life?

"Come then," he said with a little sigh as he pointed to the tall tower in a small clearing nearby. "Let's get what we came for so we can return to amassing this fortune."

"Okay, fine. I think my bag's too full anyways," she chuckled.

The small clearing, a meadow, surrounded the tall stone tower, with flowers littering the grass in colorful clumps and the ground was gently rolling and soft with a small bubbling brook somewhere within earshot. The only non-meadowy things besides the tower in the center were the stone statues placed randomly around the area. All were of well-dressed men, possibly royalty. As beautiful as the carvings were, the eyes were slightly eerie as they were smooth and blank. Dismissing the slight chill that crept up her spine, Emma turned her attention to the tower as she and Killian approached. She gasped as she finally took in the tall, slender structure rising from the center of the clearing. Stone and ivy made up the towering column and at the top was an iron spire pointing its way from the shingled roof into the blue sky and bright sunshine. The only other feature was the presence of a tiny balcony and arched door, high above.

"Oh!" Emma gasped. "It's _this _tower!"

"Aye, love," Killian said, glancing at her like she was losing her mind.

"Oh, come on, Killian! It's Rapunzel's tower!"

"Who?"

Emma was speechless. Killian knew all the stories! He told her a new one all the time. "Rapunzel! As in 'Rapunzel, let down your golden hair'!" she cried.

"You've lost me completely, lass," he chuckled as he shook his head and approached the vined wall, preparing to climb.

"I cannot believe _you_, who told me about Jack and the Beanstalk when we first met,_ you_ don't know this one!"

"Well, much like that day, we've a bit of a climb, my love. Why don't you tell it to me?"

"I'm going to!" she laughed as she latched onto the ivy and began her assent. "I'm going with the movie version because it's a good one."

"What's a movie?"

Emma thought about how to explain that one for a moment. "It's like watching a play but you can watch it whenever you want, wherever you are."

"Bloody convenient."

"Yeah, and damn," she said as the thought hit her. "I never get to see any of them again. Bummer."

"Well, you could always tell me them, love, that way you don't forget them," Killian suggested as he pulled himself up higher.

That was actually a fairly good idea and Emma brightened up considerably at being able to tell him the plots of all her favorites. "Okay, we're starting with Rapunzel then. So, there's this golden flower..."

A little while later and Killian was helping her over the balcony rail where she collapsed tiredly into his arms, done with the climb and her story.

"So," she panted. "What do you think?"

"Lovely story, m'dear, but hair _that _bloody long is ridiculous," he laughed.

"Said Captain Hook holding the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming," she sassed as she nuzzled his chest playfully. "Come on, let's get this thing so I can get you to our bed and try that thing I mentioned earlier."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Killian groaned as he tapped her on the ass with his open hand.

The small room at the top of the tower was just that. A room and small. The only light came in through the balcony but they didn't need more than that in the tiny space. Dust and cobwebs coated the floor, the rafters, everything, and in the center, a plain, stone pedestal sat and on it, the _magic crystal._

"We came for this?" Emma asked dismally.

The thing was nothing special, hell, it didn't even sparkle much. About the size of a baseball, the smooth grey stone was covered in jagged cracks that revealed glassy black crystals on the inside. A faint, light seemed to glow from somewhere within the rock, but it was barely anything to write home about.

"Hmm," Killian allowed, just as unimpressed as she was. "Well I suppose at least we have some baubles from the forest," he said as he reached for the ugly thing and placed it in his satchel.

No sooner had the rock been removed from its place, the wind kicked up a bit and the bright sunlight coming into the room faded as dark clouds overtook the skies with a grumble of distant thunder. A chill accompanied the wind and Killian and Emma's eyes met, both widened mirrors of _oh shit._

"Time to go," Emma said and Killian nodded enthusiastically.

Together they made their way quickly to the outside and began to descend the tower in a hurry, the cold wind and darkening sky making them increasingly nervous but neither of them spoke until they hit the ground, Killian maintaining his footing while Emma tumbled backwards on her butt.

"Come, love," Killian said quietly with a wary eye on the forest as he helped her up.

The tone of his voice succeeded in alerting her even more. Yeah, something was definitely not right. "What the hell?" Emma gasped as she got a good look at the trees around them.

All the sparkle, the gems, the precious metals were gone, leaving black, sinister, dead trees in their place. The once green grass was brown and dried up, dust blowing up from the dry soil, and a general heavy feeling of dread settled in Emma's chest. As if that wasn't enough, the statues in the meadow were different, too. Still stone, but a thick, dark red substance oozed from the corners of their eyes, their mouths, and their hands that Emma _did not_ want to identify. And... was that _screaming_ she could just barely hear, muffled and carried away with the wind?

"Okay, babe," she breathed, reaching for her husband's hand. "Let's get the hell out of here, now."

Killian was on the same page and together, not as excited as the last time, they ran hand in hand to get out of the woods, darting through blackened trees, which, upon closer inspection, sprouted tiny dark purple mushrooms in places and gushed a thick, black sap that _had _to be the source of that damn smell, like something dead and frighteningly past its expiration date.

Green of a normal and healthy wood was on the horizon when Killian skidded to a halt, Emma crashing into his back. Before them stood three tall women in long, black, and tattered gowns. Their faces were flawless and fair and vibrant red hair on all three was piled high in elaborate, coiling updos. Instantly, the pirates drew their swords, Emma moving to Killian's left side.

"Leaving so soon?" the three women spoke in unison.

_Like shit wasn't creepy enough. '"Come and play with us."_

"Let us pass," Killian demanded, expertly swaying the tip of his sword at the ladies.

The three spoke in perfect unison once again, their eyes dull and faces emotionless. "No. We've been waiting for another prince."

Emma thought she would actually throw up. The statues. The ooze. The screaming.

Her pirate gave a little shrug with his trademark smirk. "'Fraid I cannot help you with that one, ladies. Alas, there are no princes among my crew."

"Killian," Emma said slowly and gently, almost under her breath. "Who did you marry?"

It took him a moment of confusion before his shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed, defeated. "A bloody princess," he answered.

"Yup."

"This is your fault," he grumbled, adding something along the lines of 'so damned beautiful and perfect' before he lunged for the women with a vicious swipe of his sword.

No damage was inflicted as the triplets poofed into black smoke (_Of course they did_) but Killian wasted no time in grabbing Emma's hand and running through the forest with her, once again racing for safety and escape.

"If we can make the greener trees-" Emma yelled before yelping as Killian jerked backwards out of her tight grasp.

The girls were back, desperately sinking their clawed hands into the thrashing pirate to drag him deeper into the forest. A burst of some sort of magic hit her from one of the sisters, and Emma crashed backwards against one of the gross trees, Killian getting pulled farther away from her. Shaking the daze from her head from the collision, she watched in horror as one of the witches, with sharpened teeth behind her full lips, was about to sink a bite into Killian's shoulder as he fought in their too strong grip.

Emma scrambled to gather her wits, sorting them to find all the instructions Regina had given her over their informal lessons in the past few months, along with the one reminder that tied it all together: Emotion. That was her shoulder, her pirate, her man that those evil bitches were about to devour, and that's all it took. A bolt of power flashed from her, blue lightning that snaked directly to the three, electrocuting them almost comically as they shrieked aloud before disappearing in their puff of smoke. The huge explosion of her own power, bigger than any shock she'd performed while on ogre patrol, made Emma a bit breathless and she ran for Killian and took his hand once more.

"Are you alright love?" he asked worriedly, no worse for wear other than some scratches on his neck.

"Yeah," she panted, getting her breath back. "That shit takes some getting used to. Let's get out of here before they come back."

Killian nodded eagerly and they were off again, this time successfully reaching the greener forest before they stopped and gasped for air. There was no sign of the women but after a brief glance between husband and wife, they pushed on despite their fatigue until they finally reached the shore and their little rowboat. Once halfway to the Jolly, Emma finally let herself feel a little safer and stopped her part of the rowing to breathe a sigh of relief as Killian did the same beside her.

"What in the hell just happened?"

"I'm not sure, my love," he answered her with a heavy sigh, panting like her and producing the crystal from his satchel. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Emma, but didn't the Blue Fairy say this was to ward off evil?"

They exchanged a look before muttering together, "Fucking blue fairy."

Emma took up her oar again, anger fueling her strokes. "I'm going to rip her little wings off if she doesn't have a good damn explanation for this."

Killian was just as irritated and tossed the rock onto the floor of the boat. "We could just crush her with the damn thing."

"I like that idea, too."

His laughter bubbled forth despite his anger, however. "Well, at least we come home with _some_ sparkle."

"Ick," Emma cringed with panic. "I don't know that I want to open my bag. What if it changed like the forest?"

Dropping his oar again, Killian did the honors and reached into her satchel. They both winced until he quickly removed a bit of diamond bark victoriously. "Still pretty," he said with some relief.

"So, what?" Emma prompted as she replaced her treasure and took up her rowing again. "Instead of warding off evil, it just hides it with some pretty trees?"

"Probably just creates the illusion," Killian surmised. "And those bitches used it to lure people into their lair for who knows how long. Poor bastards."

Emma eyed her satchel warily again. "So, do you think I'm still carrying around gross trees?"

"I doubt it, love," he said, nudging the crystal with his boot. "See? Light's out. Has been since I lifted it from the pedestal."

She took a good look at the thing and in fact the faint glowing she remembered seeing in it before everything went to hell in a hand basket, was gone. It was just an ugly, worthless rock.

"Maybe Regina will know something about it," she offered. "I don't trust that damn fairy." Killian snorted his agreement and then flinched when Emma reached towards the bloody claw marks on his neck. "You alright?"

"Aye, love," he smirked as they pulled up beside the Jolly. "Ready to go home?"

She gave him a quick peck on the lips, a nod, and began to climb her way up the side of their ship, crying out in surprise when he nipped her playfully on her butt.

"Now, about this idea you had, love..." he trailed off and Emma giggled. Of course, after all the danger, he wouldn't forget that she'd mentioned that. "Tonight you are going to explain it to me in _vivid_ detail and perhaps I'll share a few ideas of my own."

"Oh, damn," she sighed. "We're not sleeping tonight, are we?"

His laughter rang out below her. "Doubt it."


	10. Chapter 10

_You guys are so suspicious! Could it be that you're not buying this bit of calm I'm spinning? ;) -Dani_

* * *

They were back at the Crowned Crow in that little coastal town before making the long trek back home, much to the delight of all the sailors. Despite the rather large disappointment that there was no jeweled forest pieces weighing down the Jolly, Killian, Emma, and their crew were not about to let that stop them from enjoying their journey as much as possible. Their patience and good humor were eventually well rewarded, too, in the form of an old shipwreck, no doubt a victim of Regina's curse. With some creative uses of hooks and some strong swimmers from the crew, a good haul of heavy chests found their new home on the Jolly Roger. A few held only water-logged cloth and destroyed books, but a good couple of them held the glitter—gold coins, gemstones, silver dinnerware, proper pirate booty to Emma's delighted mind. It was that shipwreck discovery that got Killian's wheels turning excitedly and as they continued their work on restoring their maps, he began making notes of old military and merchant ports to check someday for some more excavation.

In those few weeks since they left the nightmare forest, Emma also spent some of her time messing with that stupid crystal, zapping it with magic and trying to get it to do _something_ until eventually, she found the on switch. It seemed to be exactly what she and Killian originally thought, some sort of illusion maker, and so far she'd only been able to create tiny reality filters in their cabin, a few new windows, a bigger bed, and once she'd even made a small tropical beach, complete with squishy, warm sand, but the illusions always snapped off once the rock was disturbed. It didn't seem to serve any other purpose, at least not one that Emma could find. If she'd had a phone she could've just _called_ Regina and asked for some extra ideas, but they'd have to wait until they returned home. Until then, it made a home in her satchel for safekeeping.

For this night, however, all thoughts of the puzzle she carried were put to rest. This was the last big stop before about a straight month at sea and she was determined to enjoy every second of it. Emma and Killian sat with their sailors at one of the long wooden tables in the room, using barrels and crates for extra chairs. Tin and earthenware mugs and metal tankards full of ale littered the rough table top alongside plates of rustic bread and beautifully charred, roast meat, those two smells filling the room deliciously as music from a lone lute player filtered over the boisterous conversations in the room, not only from them and the crew, but also the locals.

"Let's have a game then, shall we?" Farren cried as he landed in his seat after stealing a kiss from his curvy barmaid and dancing partner. He was such a damn flirt.

"What game?" Killian laughed to his quartermaster, obviously having a good time as well, a thing Emma would never take for granted.

"Well, are you any good with cards, Captain?" Farren returned as he produced a worn deck from his jacket and began to shuffle them expertly.

"Aye, but I'd hate to lighten your pockets any more, lad," he teased. "If your dice game is any indication of how you do at cards, I think I can be fairly confident."

The quartermaster got a good laugh at that. "Don't be so sure, Captain. I'm feeling lucky tonight."

"What he means is, he's about to cheat," interrupted the sailor beside him.

"You're a sore loser, Rob," Farren hurled back.

Emma smiled at the banter and snatched the deck from Farren's hands, beginning to shuffle. "_I'll _deal to keep you honest," she stated. "But you guys will have to tell me the rules."

"Easy!" Rob said, brightening a bit as he jerked his thumb to the quartermaster. "Give this dog all the shit cards."

Laughter rolled over the table and calls for players went out, sailors shuffling closer. Emma moved into Killian's lap to free up another seat, wiggling a bit for fun, and she shuffled the deck as gold pieces, gems, and baubles found their way onto the table. Her pirate placed a little kiss on her ear and a possessive arm around her waist after producing his own bank which made a heavy thud on the table.

"Hey, now!" another sailor hollered. "Cap'n Emma, no lettin' Jones cheat! I don't care how pretty he is!"

Emma's laughter mixed with everyone else's. "Hell no, John! In fact, I've got a shiny gold bonus for whoever can beat him first!"

"Betting against me, love?" Killian growled playfully in her ear over the low roar of the sailors' excitement. "You should know better."

"Where's the whelp?" Farren cried suddenly, standing to search the room. "Wir! Get your arse over here and play."

The newest and youngest addition to the crew was ushered through to sit next to the quartermaster, a big grin on his face. He'd done well, taken to the seas like he was made for them, and was definitely earning his keep. Now, the crew just needed to corrupt him and break him in some more. They were more than willing.

"Come, lad," Killian said, passing him a mug. "Gambling will put hair on your chest."

"I thought you said the ale'd do that," Wir replied cheekily as he took a swig and grinned some more at the appreciative laughter he got in response.

"Best to be thorough, wise arse," Farren snorted.

"Alright. Come on, guys," Emma chuckled. "Someone get me another beer and tell me what the hell I'm doing."

She got as she ordered, a full mug of cellar cooled, amber deliciousness and a quick breakdown of her job as dealer. It was easy enough, a bit like Spades or Hearts with its tricks and trumps but it wasn't exactly the games she was used to. In the end, however, cards were cards. She dealt, shuffled, and dealt again through the games as Killian played and explained more of the rules and strategies to her along the way. He was good, shrewd and calculating, not afraid to take a big gamble if he favored his hand, and while he didn't sweep the table, he kept a healthy pile.

After a good long while of playing, another game was done and won, this time by Wir of all people, and in addition to his gold, he got some congratulatory pounds on his back and proud cheers from his crew mates. Emma was smiling and just rounding up the cards to prepare for another round as the door to the tavern swung open and in spilled _another_ pirate crew with their Captain in the lead, a Captain she already knew.

_Morris._

Emma froze, her body already braced for trouble. Killian saw him too but didn't stiffen like she did. Obviously he was not so surprised by the pirate's appearance, a pirate that was making his way to their table like he was somehow welcome.

"Jones, my boy!" Nathaniel cried in greeting. "You're not going to shoo me out of these waters as well, are you?"

"No," Killian answered evenly. "You know which ones to stay away from."

A sarcastic grunt was the big blonde's response, wearing another of those long, glittering, damn near _girly_ earrings. He stole a mug of beer from the table and took a big gulp before putting on a face of mock pity. "Must be so hard with the one hand," he sighed dramatically. "Poor Jones can't even shuffle his own cards."

His cronies laughed behind him and Emma's temper ignited. This guy was a complete prick. She smirked cruelly and spoke up, acid in her tone. "Oh, it's not that. He just loves what I can do with my hands."

The Jolly's crew blew up with cheers and surprised but delighted laughter and she even felt Killian chuckling a bit behind her. Distantly, Emma realized that their men had never seen her like this. They knew she was special to Killian, knew she was able to hang with the boys, laugh and have a good time, but none of them, except her husband, knew her on defense and in the early, dangerous stages of pissed off.

Morris returned her hard smirk and looked her over leisurely, making her want to gag. "Sweetie," he oozed with sugared words, "The man isn't whole. Surely, he can't satisfy you like you no doubt deserve."

"Well, you can ask the crew," she said shrugged casually, sweeping her hand to indicate the grinning and engrossed sailors. "I'm sure someone's heard me screaming at night."

More cheers shook the rafters after the comment as the Jolly Roger crew lost their minds with amusement, throwing taunts at Morris for being bested by a woman. Unfortunately, the bastard wasn't finished yet.

Tempering his face to one of sympathy, Nathaniel let his voice become soft and pleading, _almost_ sounding like a gentleman. "My dear, can't you see that he's using you? We pirates are regrettably stuck in our ways. Sure, he may fancy you now, but you're just another whore to him."

Undaunted, Emma immediately planted her left elbow on the table, her hand up to wiggle her fingers as she growled at the asshole, losing all pretense of calm and cool. "Well, I must be quite the whore because he married me."

That threw Morris for a moment and he took in the ring on her finger with wide eyes. His features were almost humorously shocked before he finally checked himself and smoothed his features, chuckling lightly. "Very interesting! Well, _Mrs_. Jones, if you ever get tired of bedding a cripple, come see me."

Morris was done and spun on his heel, headed for the other side of the tavern with his boys behind him like loyal dogs, but the final taunt pushed Emma over the limit. Her temper finally snapped and she launched herself up out of Killian's lap, ready to pounce and bounce the bastard's head against something solid, only to have nearly the entire Jolly crew jump to their feet to hold her back, pushing her down into Killian, who tightened his arm around her waist to hold her there until she cooled down.

"Easy, Cap'n" and "Celebrate one victory first, milady," resounded from the men and she heard Farren call for another drink which he slammed down on the table in front of her with one for himself.

"Respectfully requesting permission to challenge your fiery wife to a drinking game, Captain," the quartermaster said to Killian over her shoulder.

Despite the red she was still seeing, Emma managed to laugh a little and took a deep breath to get rid of at least _some_ of the rage pulsing through her.

Killian squeezed her in a little affectionate hug and chuckled. "Aye, and if she gets proper drunk, you get a bonus."

"Wait just a damn minute," Emma spoke up. "You're playing too."

"Fine, my love," he shrugged. "Who else is in this?"

Players for the new game assembled while Emma kept a wary eye on Morris who'd retreated to a safe corner of the tavern with his own men. "You don't seem surprised to see him," she whispered in Killian's ear.

He hummed a bit. No, he wasn't surprised but he was definitely irritated despite the lighthearted mask he was wearing. "Farren and I may have noticed some lights on the horizon over the last few nights."

"So he's been following us and you were going to tell me _when_?"

"When it became a problem."

Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. "Anytime you're ready, then," she grumbled.

Killian paused to take a drink from his mug. "Emma love, I think Morris is following us."

The look she turned on him probably could have sunk every ship in the ocean. "I don't think I want to sleep with you anymore."

That made him smile wide, a look accompanied by one of those gorgeous eyebrows as his hand stealthily stroked her _there,_ underneath the table. "Really?"

"Really," she answered unsteadily, trying very hard not to moan out loud.

Her pirate chuckled before placing a light kiss on her shoulder and sobering. "We weren't sure it was him, kept his distance well. We'll see how long he's staying, where he's heading and adjust accordingly."

"Sounds good," she agreed with a nod. Killian didn't move until he was sure about what the hell he was talking about and she trusted him to tell her when it was time to panic.

Emma returned her attention back to their table, shaking off the rest of her anger in favor of some more fun and it wasn't long before Morris was forgotten completely, a loser to their revelry.

* * *

Emma groaned at her bad luck as her card indicated for her to down her drink, which was practically full, her last refill not long ago. Around her the men whooped and hollered with glee and Killian laughed behind her, his hand decidedly more active under the table after playing and drinking for a good while.

She was not looking forward to chugging that much beer, no matter how good it was, but she'd always been competitive so there was no way she'd back out. Sighing heavily with a little shrug, she went for it, taking a deep breath before tipping her mug back to gulp down her drink. Some of the sailors cheered her on, some teased her, asking if she was sure she could do it, but it was Killian, _damn him_, who nearly made her fail. That hand of his was trouble, nonchalantly stroking her inner thigh before moving higher up her torso and to her chest, where the bastard slipped his hand into her leather bodice to cup a breast. Whistling and more cheers followed. Her eyes went wide but she didn't stop; she was almost finished. Instead, she used her free arm to elbow him hard, and while he grunted in pain, he laughed and kept his hand where it was. Honestly, she was more than okay with it.

Taking the last little bit in, Emma finally slammed her mug down, victorious, and laughed and gasped down much needed air as her crew loudly applauded her success. She was having a blast, only slightly buzzed, and absolutely nowhere near tired, but her handsy husband had her seriously considering calling it an early night. Killian's teeth bit down gently on her neck as the game continued on to the next sailor and she responded by purposely rolling her hips in his lap and leaning back press a kiss on his jaw.

"Are you ready to stop teasing me, yet?" she whispered huskily in his ear.

Before he could respond, a refill of her mug landed in front of her but Killian instantly pushed it back. "Sorry, lads. Milady suddenly has other plans."

Knowing guffaws and suggestive comments erupted from their table and before she could even think about climbing out of Killian's lap and making a mad dash for their ship and cabin, Emma found herself unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder and quickly hauled out the door of the tavern to the sounds of gleeful and leering wishes for them to have a _very_ good night. Emma's view was fantastic and she laughed with joy as she sent her hands down Killian's back, over his narrow hips, and finally to his leather clad ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Her punishment for the move was a playful nip on her own backside but it didn't stop her and her hands stayed exactly there as they made their way home through the deserted docks.

Or, perhaps, not so deserted.

"Lookie here, my boys!" came an unwelcome voice and visitor before they could near the Jolly. "Captain Hook and Mrs. Hook!"

Harsh snickers answered the voice and Killian came to a sudden stop before he quickly and carefully lowered Emma to the ground so that she could see the danger. Fucking Morris and handful of his thugs. Nothing like a threatening bastard to sober you up and kill your good mood and buzz.

"Let us pass, Morris," Killian warned calmly, hand on his sword, ready to go if needed. "We're not looking for trouble."

"Truly, Jones," the Captain barreled through happily, ignoring the mild threat in Killian's voice. "I must extend my congratulations. I am so glad that you fell in love with the pretty lassie and married her. It's going to make this all so much better!"

"Make what better?" Emma demanded. A cold sliver of dread crept through her blood. Something told her that this was going to be very much, not good.

Nathaniel grinned at her and winked. "You'll see soon enough, dear one."

Before either she or Killian could react, the damned pirate produced another of his magic vials, hurling it towards their feet, shattering it and releasing the purple smoke inside. Instantly, Emma went down like dead weight, barely registering that Killian did the same beside her and then there was nothing.

Blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

_I have no willpower. Ha. And I cannot promise that I'll always be able to update this quickly..._

_Waning for the sensitive: Violence and language in this chapter. Definitely M rated.  
_

* * *

The creeping tendrils of the waking world began to slowly stretch through Killian's foggy brain. His bloody shoulders were killing him and as consciousness gradually returned to him, he found the reason for his discomfort. He was strapped to a barrel, his arms pulled back and around the thing with good strong ropes, tightly binding them there and also around his waist and ankles. A gag wrapped around his head just as snugly. Taking a deep breath of the musky air around him through his nose, the final waves of clarity rushed through him like a strong tide and his eyes snapped open to find Emma, remembering all too well what happened before he went out.

He found her immediately. She was across the dim room on the opposite wall, already awake and those green eyes mirroring everything in his – fury, concern for him, and the tiniest and healthiest touch of fear. She was bound and gagged like he was but otherwise appeared unharmed which was fortunate at least for Morris.

That bastard! What was his bloody game? Whatever it was, the stakes were serious and Nathaniel Morris' punishment would be severe once Killian got his hand and hook on him! Speaking of which, while the cowards were smart enough to remove his sword from him, his more sinister namesake was still securely attached, though he could not use it now. Emma, he saw, was still armed. Typical Nathaniel. He never respected a woman as a foe, saw them only as playthings. Most likely it amused him to see her carrying so many weapons, but he was a bloody idiot for underestimating her.

Shaking himself from all the wonderful ways to watch his old enemy die, Killian quickly took in their surroundings. They were in some sort of underground room, a cellar, and a large one at that. The dirt floor beneath them was cool and slightly damp with the humidity in the air. Stacks of ancient and new barrels cluttered the room along with varieties of crates, some empty, some full. Besides those useless pieces of information, there was no clue as to where they _actually_ were or how long they'd been unconscious. Morris certainly had the upper hand with his cowardly act of knocking them out. Once upon a time, the man had _tried_ to fight Killian fairly but only ended up with that deep crevice of a scar across his highly prized face, a slight that he'd never forgiven Killian for and never would. Next time, Killian decided, he'd take his damned head.

Moving on, he found the door to the place, a heavy looking and plain wooden thing. Beside it on a little shelf sat a lamp, the only light source in the room, and two pairs of Nathaniel's crewmen, waiting for orders. They were the same four lackeys that were with their Captain on the docks for the ambush. And as for the blonde fucker himself, the man was there, relaxing in a little wooden chair with his ankles crossed and a pleased smile on his face as he waited patiently to begin whatever the next part of his plan was.

"Good morning, my friends!" Nathaniel finally greeted them cheerily, hopping up and drawing a small, jeweled dagger from his belt. Killian tensed as the pirate approached but he only cut his gag away.

"Morris, I'll gut you, you worthless coward!" Killian snarled immediately with his new freedom. "What do you want? Why have you brought us here?"

Nathaniel slinked back to stand midway between Killian and Emma. That infuriating smile of someone absolutely in control of everything was written on his face and in his stance and his chilling green eyes slipped to Emma in that way that instantly made Killian see red. "Seems like you have some enemies in this realm," he commented quite casually like he was discussing the weather.

"Aye! I'm in the room with one!"

"Not you, my dear boy," Morris explained, his smile deepening in obvious satisfaction.

An icy chill shot through Killian's veins as he realized the man meant Emma. Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized it, too. "You'll leave her be and do your business with me, Morris!" he growled, testing his restraints. They were much too tight to inspire any hope.

"Nah, I'm getting paid too well for this one," the villain chuckled with a shake of his head, turning his full attention on Emma. "Miss Swan is it? Well, _was_ it?" Killian watched as his still gagged wife narrowed her emerald eyes to stare down her opponent. Undaunted by her seething anger, Nathaniel only laughed again before he continued. "Well, I hope you've said your prayers, lassie, because there's a price on your head and I'm here to collect. And _you_," he said, spinning round to face Killian once more, smiling wickedly, "You get to watch and live with the memory of it all."

Killian's panic was getting too much for him to handle. He could not, _would not_ bear it if the bastard took away his Emma. "I can pay you more if you leave her be! Morris, her family can match anything I can pay you as well!" he desperately bargained.

"Bah!" Nathaniel scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand and scrunch of his scarred nose. "I've had over three hundred years to amass my treasure, Jones! But I cannot enjoy it if I lose that little trick of eternal youth and that's what's on the line. She dies, I continue to be young and pretty forever. And the fact that you get to suffer through the rest of your worthless life knowing that I took her from you, is the sweetest part. A bonus, if you like! Really, Jones. How could I pass up such a deal?"

"And who exactly have you been making deals with?" Killian demanded.

"Sorry, laddie," Morris responded, not sorry at all. "He's paying for secrecy as well."

"Damn the payment!" Killian snarled furiously. "Morris! You loathe me! You always have! Let her go and you can end me however you wish!"

Across the room, Emma's angry and muffled noises through her gag protested that arrangement with as much venom as Killian used on their enemy. She'd surely flog him for this.

Nathaniel paused for a long moment and took a few glances between the two of them, an unreadable expression on his face. "You really do love her, then?" he finally asked softly.

He did. He loved her so very much, more than anyone or anything ever before in his long life, but Killian knew he was treading on dangerous ground and that his honest answers to that question would do nothing but seal her fate for certain. "Please Nathaniel," he said as calmly as he could as he tried his last hand at bartering. "Just let her go and you can have me."

The silence that followed was deafening and seemed to stretch on forever as thankfully, Morris appeared to be considering the trade, but eventually, the slightest change came over his face and Killian knew that he was a fool to think he could bargain with the devil.

"I think not," Morris smiled before motioning for his men to assist him.

Struggling against his restraints with all his might, Killian hollered and cursed, begged and threatened as the four crewmen in the room made for Emma, cutting the ropes holding her to the heavy barrel. The muffled cursing and insults coming from Emma as the men roughly hauled her to her feet and attempted to hold her rebellious and fighting body still, fueled Killian's struggle and desperation. Screaming for her, he could instantly taste the blood in his throat and he thrashed and pulled against his ropes, needing to reach her, needing to save her, but the cold realization that he was going to fail began to quickly take over his body.

This could not be happening, but no sooner had that _stupid_ statement flitted through his mind, Killian watched as Nathaniel slowly unsheathed his sword and then, without even an ounce of hesitation, he ran Emma through, cleanly cleaving the perfect skin of her side, her muffled scream filling the air.

Swears and assurances that he'd slaughter every last one of them filled the cellar as Killian lost his mind with rage and panic. Emma sunk to the floor weakly as Morris withdrew his sword from her and leisurely began to clean the blade. There was so much blood and Killian knew that wound, dealt it a few times himself. He knew very well that his love, his wife was already in her final moments. His strong, beautiful wife, laid low by a man not even worthy to stand in her presence. Killian could see nothing but her even with the crimson fury in his eyes, hear nothing but her pained gasps for breath as she lie dying on the ground, much too far away from him, and he continued to shout threats and promises at the bastards who did this, most especially Morris.

Too distracted by her, Killian almost didn't notice that the thugs were ordered to cut his ropes, but once free, Emma was in his arms in seconds and her tight gag was gone with a careful swipe of his hook. She was pale already, but holding on, her green eyes open wide with anger and pain, glistening with tears. Killian shouldn't have, but he got a good look at her wound as if to cruelly remind himself that there was no reason to have even an wisp of hope that she'd make it.

"Emma, Emma, Emma," he chanted softly as he stroked her face, hoping to give her some sort of comfort, afraid to rock her lest he hurt her more. "Stay with me, love. Stay with me, please, my love."

"Killian," she whispered, somehow demanding him to calm down with the simple and weak utterance. "Killian, listen to me. Tell Henry I love him. And my parents. Please, do that for me. Please, take care of them."

If his heart wasn't already broken, it shattered with her those, her final requests, given so calmly, so steadily. She was always a smart lass. She knew the reality of the situation but Killian couldn't take it.

"Don't leave me, Emma," he begged desperately, falling apart as he held her and tried not to squeeze too tightly. "Please, don't leave me."

The tears finally left her brimming eyes and she began to cry softly. "I don't want to! Killian, I love you so much!" she sobbed, her hands touching his face, smoothing his beard and brushing over his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Emma," he whispered, struggling to keep a firm hand on his own tears. He was hanging by a thread, however. This was it. "Please, forgive me, lass. This is my fault."

"Shh," she calmed him with a weak shake to her head and a firm glare in her eyes for him. "It's not your fault! Don't blame yourself for this."

"How can I not?"

"Just promise me you won't, dammit!"

Killian swallowed hard and sniffed back the threatening tears filling his eyes. He had to be strong for her like she was strong for him. "I'll try not to, love."

"I wouldn't change one thing," Emma very nearly growled at him before a whimper of pain hit her, either from the wound in her side or the one in her heart. "Not one single line of our story. Do you understand me?"

He could only nod. Surely, he would not survive this new gaping fissure in his heart, his soul, his very life. Hopefully, he'd be right behind her.

"This is so much bullshit," she sighed raggedly.

"Aye, my love," he agreed, lowering his forehead to meet hers, no idea what to do but hold her. "We weren't done yet, Emma. We weren't done," he mumbled feebly.

"Shh," she soothed again, tough and fearless like he'd always known her to be even through her tears. She reached up with her hand to softly run her fingers through his hair, like she always liked to do. "It'll be okay."

"_How_?" he demanded.

She shushed him gently again, moving to run her thumb over his trembling bottom lip. "Killian, just kiss me and tell me you love me."

A noise left his chest, something akin to a shattered sob, and he did as he was told, kissing her deeply and fiercely, the last time he'd ever get to. He tried to pour every bit of his love for her into it, hoping that she knew the immensity of it, while he tried put words to the taste of her, the feel of her, the things he'd need to recall for the remainder of his sentence in this world without her.

"I love you, Emma!" he swore softly but firmly once he finally forced himself to pull away from her lips. "I love you more than you'll ever know, sweetheart."

Emma nodded and cried harder but before she could say anything, their moment was rudely interrupted as Nathaniel's forgotten demons finally reappeared and began to drag Killian away from her. Once he realized what was happening through the murk of grief in his brain, he fought back, doing anything and everything he could to stay with Emma til the end, but they were done toying with him and as soon as she was out of reach, something heavy struck him in the back of his skull. His face smashed into the dirt and the last thing he saw before slipping back into unconsciousness was Emma, lying in a pool of blood and reaching for him with all her strength, tears in her eyes and his name on her lips.

* * *

Emma's vision seriously began to fail her as the edges fuzzed out more and more with each passing minute, no doubt from the blood loss and her quickly approaching end, but blurry vision or not, her eyes were locked on her husband's limp form, his screams finally silent, as the two bastards left in charge of him drug him out of the basement, closing the heavy door behind them with a final thud. Another crushing wave of tears hit her as she realized _that_ was it. That was the last time she'd ever see him. She didn't have the energy to really bawl like she wanted to and could only roll painfully to her back, letting the tears flow over her cheekbones in endless streams.

As much pain as her heart was in, the thing imploding like a star in her chest, the hole in her side, bleeding out, was beginning to numb, a realization that freaked her out. How much longer did she have? Better question, who fucking cared since they took Killian away from her?

Those fucking bastards!

Distantly, (Fabulous, her hearing was going to hell now, too) she heard the door open again and someone new entered, but her eyes were locked on the blurry, dark ceiling above her. She didn't have the strength or desire to move her head anymore.

"...job's finished, boss?"

The voice sounded familiar somehow but in her fading mind, Emma couldn't place it.

"Aye, 'tis."

That was Nathaniel's voice, she was sure. Prick.

"Now that your Captain's wife is almost dead, we can get our reward and my treasure from that demanding little fucker," he continued with a weary sigh.

"_Your Captain"? _

The word traitor echoed tauntingly in her head and Emma tried to figure out who it was, but no matter how hard she tried to command her vision and body to cooperate, she couldn't find the sonofabitch.

Someone found _her_, however.

One of Morris' goons hovered over her suddenly, a foreboding leer on his face as he swept his treacherous eyes over her, taking her in, wounded and in all respects, helpless, down for the count, no longer a threat. Whispering something awful, something Emma didn't even want to think about, he lowered himself to the floor with her, his grubby hands pawing at her body. These people may have been sent to kill her for a paycheck, but they truly had no idea who the hell they were dealing with because they were stupid enough to leave her armed and assume that just because she was dying, she wouldn't take somebody with her in the span of one of her remaining heartbeats. The sick bastard moved to kiss her just as her hand found the dagger in her belt and with the remaining strength she could muster, she thrust the blade into his throat and shoved his disgusting body off of hers where he rolled away, choking until he lie dead. She outlived one of them.

That final burst of energy was truly her last hoorah and as the darkness rapidly embraced her, tugging at her soul, she saw Nathaniel's face come into her vision next, and maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to look at her for a moment with something akin to reluctant respect. A hard smirk took over his face before long, however, and he knelt down with his own dagger. A part of Emma panicked that he was going to finish the job, another simply didn't care, but he only sawed off a long lock of her hair before standing back up and walking away from her, out of her sight.

"Take these with you, but give me a head start," Morris instructed the traitor. "Once you get away from the Jolly, you remember where to go for your payment, correct?"

"Aye, won't be a problem."

"Excellent. Come then. I'll buy you a drink before you head out."

The lantern was snuffed and the door closed behind them leaving Emma alone and bleeding on the cold, dirt floor, enveloped by darkness. A few more tears fell over her face as she finally closed her eyes and she forced herself think of her loved ones, instead of focusing on the fear gripping her.

Henry, her much loved son, her wonderful parents, her husband, Killian.

All the what-could-have-beens flooded her mind and though she feebly tried to beat them back, they overpowered and _crushed _her. No children with their daddy's mischievous smiles, no watching Henry grow into a man and find his own Happy Ending, no meeting and welcoming in a new baby sister or baby brother, no growing old with Killian, the love of her brief life. A broken sob burst from her lips and as fucking cliché as it was, her life flashed before her eyes and she latched on to those bright spots of joy mostly congregating towards the end of the short timeline that was her little journey.

With one last tear, a final breath sighed out of her body, and in the dark, in the chilled air, on a hard deathbed of dirt and blood, after all she'd fought for and won for herself, Emma Jones went out alone.


	12. Chapter 12

Killian woke with a start, sand in his nose and in his mouth and a startled shout on his lips as everything came rushing back to him. Emma, his wife, his True Love, she was dead!

Sinking his good hand into the sunshine baked sand of whatever lonely beach they'd dumped him on, he squeezed like he'd strangle the life from the earth itself and howled out his anguish. The sound scared him, something he hadn't heard from himself in over three hundred years. This never should have happened twice! No! Emma was his miracle, his second chance, his happy ending! And now it was _over_! The End! How could this happen to him again? To lose another loved one, violently stolen from his arms, from their young life! Truly, it must be his punishment. Hell would never be enough fire for all his sins so he'd been sentenced to burn in life as well. It was too much, he couldn't breathe in enough air, almost didn't want to, anything to stop the hurt. His wife! His very life! Gone! Dead!

Screaming again with a fresh wave of pain, the vivid memory of his last image of his beloved wife, lover, and friend, hit him and his voice cracked under the strain on his raw throat, making him cough up blood, staining the white sand beneath him. She was reaching for him and he couldn't get to her! She died on her own, with no one to comfort her!

_Where is she?_

Killian shot up urgently and ran an unsteady hand through his hair, knowing he needed to recover her body, but somehow also knowing that it would end up a hopeless errand. He knew nothing! Not where they were, or where he was now, or, he forced himself through it once again, how long she'd been dead. A harsh twist in his chest nearly choked him at the thought. Her _body_, her cold, lifeless body, a candle snuffed like it was nothing when she was the strongest, liveliest, most beautiful thing in the entire world. He shuddered, no, he boiled over with rage when he thought of what that bastard, Morris, might have done with her remains. His Emma wouldn't get a respectful burial like she deserved in the hands of that bloody whoreson. Growling out his fury, Killian let the fire focus him and he methodically scanned his surroundings, noticing them for the first time.

They'd stranded him on some tiny little sandbar, only a large boulder and a few pieces of driftwood for company, not a proper coast in sight under the clear blue sky of a mid-afternoon, but, blessedly, on the horizon big white sails he knew as his own, were making for his location.

It would take a little while for the Jolly to reach him, so Killian began to compose himself. He needed to be calm, clear-headed, even if all he wanted to do was sit there and mourn his lost love, rub ash on his face, bawl his broken, black heart out, and cry out her name until he found her in the afterlife. A small voice in his brain whispered to him, helping him to force his body and soul into strict control as the gentle swish of the ocean around him gave him the smallest of comforts.

_Soon._

Aye, soon he'd begin to mourn her forever, fall apart into nothingness for loss of his love, spend his days lamenting every glorious memory, but first he had a job to do.

He had to attempt to find her body, if he could. It would be impossible to take her home with the length of time that journey took and Killian cringed and whimpered at the thought of her already deteriorating person, that perfect flesh he worshiped, the flesh and blood that was supposed to pass on to their children. At the very least, if he found her, he could make sure she was decently and lovingly sent to sea. That fate was never supposed to fall to her. Not this soon. Not before him. He allowed himself a single sob before he knocked it back and locked it up within him, taking a deep breath to settle his trembling body.

_First, find her._

_Next?_

He had to tell her family.

Fear and shame shot through his blood. That was the very _last_ thing Killian wanted to do, but as Emma's worthless husband and caretaker, it was his duty. But revenge, that familiar friend, called to him like a siren, beckoning him to chase Captain Morris to the ends of the earth and shove a sword through him like the man did to Emma. Killian's body hummed for it, the bloodlust taking over, until the small shred of sanity he had left checked him. He'd spent three hundred years with vengeance for his lady and it destroyed him, turned him into the worst possible version of himself, a poor sodding excuse for a man until Emma brought him back, made him want to be a man worthy of her. He knew that she'd hate him for reverting back, sinking into the black spots of his heart again, but what was he to do? Morris needed to pay for this! Killian couldn't just let his wife's murder go unpunished!

_Go home, Jones. Don't do this alone this time._

Home. That was a laugh. David and Snow were so good to him, treated him like a trusted friend, like their very own son, but surely they'd hate him when he told them their only daughter, the one they'd fought for, was dead and he didn't save her. He hated himself for it! But Killian knew that the voice in his head, no doubt inspired by so much time with his love and the tinge of honor that still ran in his veins, was right. He needed to go home, no matter if the Charmings threw him out, sentenced him to death, or locked him up in the bowels of the castle for his punishment. He'd go. He'd throw himself at their feet and beg for forgiveness before petitioning them for their help, for their counsel. Hopefully with David and Snow's assistance, they could quickly capture and bring Captain Morris to whatever justice they felt appropriate in the heat of the moment.

A new thought hit him and in other circumstances maybe, he might have laughed, for the dark humor of needing to take out another magical villain, was not lost on Killian, by any means. Finding Morris and taking him out would no doubt be a long process and involve discovering who his benefactor was, who supplied his vials of magic, and bringing justice to that person as well. Rumplestitlskin was the easiest name that came to his mind, but Killian was determined not to get ahead of himself. No, properly avenging Emma was going to take patience, a clear head untainted by his rage and revenge, and if it was the last thing he did, he'd make sure that _everyone_ responsible for killing his love was brought down.

_Then what?_

_..._

_Wait til you can join her._

Killian nearly broke but maintained the iron grip on himself, clenching and unclenching his fist again and again for something else to focus on. He missed her. Already, he missed her so much he couldn't breathe and couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without her by his side. Would she come and get him when it was time? After he finished with Morris and fulfilled his promise to look after her son and her family, when death finally came, would it be her in all her blonde beauty to lead him by the hand into the next adventure? It was the only comforting thought available to him and he had to grind his teeth to keep his tears from falling as he thought of her smirking face and sparkling eyes greeting him at the end. She'd probably tease him about taking so damn long, or maybe she'd tell him she'd been waiting-

Killian had to stop himself before he could imagine any more. A rogue tear slipped past his defenses and he roughly wiped it away, trying not to think of how he'd done that task for Emma many times before, gently and sweetly.

_Later, mate. Hold yourself together._

Putting on that stone mask he hadn't worn in a good while, Killian mechanically replaced pain with numbness, his rage with cold calculation, and was ready to go when a rowboat bearing his solemn faced quartermaster finally came ashore.

"Captain," Farren greeted evenly, treading through the sand.

Standing, Killian stepped into his station, his "Captain's Boots" as Emma would say. With a curt nod, he indicated for his quartermaster to continue with whatever news he was bearing.

"We got word letting us know what happened and where to find you," Farren explained fast and efficient as he handed over an open letter. "The men and I did a quick search of the town for Captain Emma, but I'm afraid we had no luck."

"It was a cellar-"

"Aye," Farren nodded. "We found the place. Right under the damn tavern it was, but there was no sign of your wife's body." He paused and his face filled with shame. "I'm sorry, Captain. I had no inkling that something was wrong that night. We didn't get the news until the next morning."

Killian shook his head minutely. "Farren, there's no way you could have known. We were ambushed on the docks. But thank you for looking for her," he added.

Moving to the note in his hand, Killian read what notice Farren had received. It brusquely explained the facts, Emma's murder, where the crew could find their remaining Captain, and then some _bullshit, _as she would say, about how her death was a warning against trying to "commandeer waters from Captain Nathaniel Morris". Angrily folding the paper again, he shoved the letter into his vest.

"There's another," Farren added, handing over another sealed bit of parchment. "This one's addressed to you alone."

Killian only took a passing glimpse at the note bearing more of Morris' handwriting before stuffing it in his vest as well. For the moment, he was angry enough. He wasn't quite sure how well he could hold on to his attempt at calm.

"How long have we-" Killian bit his tongue for a moment before continuing, painfully correcting himself. "How long have I been gone?"

"Today is the third morning since I received the news," Farren answered carefully.

Despair hit him hard. Three days since her death! Somewhere his beautiful Emma and her body would already be decaying, lost wherever her final resting place was. Cringing openly, Killian had to take a long moment to push the thought away and steel his features and mind once more.

"We make for the Crowned Crow again," Killian finally ordered in a low voice. "One last search for her and we'll see if we can find any information pertaining to Morris and his plans. Then for home. We do this as quickly as possible. I need to inform her family and ask for her father's help before I go after the bastard."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Farren responded softly. He hesitated a moment before he spoke again. "I'm sorry, sir. She was a good woman. We all loved her."

Killian swallowed down the hard lump in his throat before nodding once in thanks and giving the man a strong clap on the back before making for the rowboat. Lost in the fog of his grief, they were soon on deck and the Jolly was cutting through the water, sails full with windy haste.

Needing to be alone, Killian sought his cabin once they were underway and it was a mistake. Emma was everywhere. This was their home away from home and though she'd not been there long, her spirit was a part of the room, joining the other ghosts that lived there. With Emma beside him, those phantoms faded away under the new and happy memories made there, but now they were back, hers brighter than all the others. He saw her in their bed, eating at their table, her skin glowing with the morning light that filtered through the windows. Her things lived in the nooks of the room, that red leather jacket from the first day they met, casually resting on the back of a chair like she'd walk through the door at any moment to retrieve it. The portrait of Henry was tacked on the wall near the bed, the one she kissed every night before turning in and Killian brushed his hand over the smiling face, crumbling at the knowledge that he promised that boy he'd take care of his mother and he'd failed. She'd never come home.

His knees went weak and he sunk to the ground, barely hanging on to himself. There was no point to his life if she wasn't in it. He was back to where he was three hundred years ago with the death of his first love, alone and hopeless, only this time, somehow it was so much worse. Remembering the distraction in his vest, Killian pulled out the additional letter, snapping open Morris' seal angrily and unfolding the parchment. A thin lock of familiar golden hair fell out onto his lap and a hollow sob shook his shoulders as he lifted Emma's hair to his face, inhaling the scent of her that permeated it. With tear filled eyes, he read the short message and instantly lit up with a special kind of rage.

_Jones,_

_Even in death she was delicious._

_-Morris_

Livid at the damning implication, Killian launched to his feet, careful to keep the blonde treasure safe, flew up the stairs, and threw open the door to his cabin. Captain Nathaniel Morris was a dead man as soon as possible.

"FARREN!"

"Aye, Captain?" Farren yelped as he skid into view, his eyes a little wide.

Killian tossed Morris' note to the quartermaster. "Put up as much canvas as we can! We hunt this bastard down as soon as we have a heading!"

Farren read the note and his eyes hardened. With a quick nod, he turned to his duties, hollering new orders to the crew. Killian slammed the door shut and lowered himself back into his room. So much for his good intentions. There would be no going home until Morris was in hand, dead preferably, and there was no place in any realm or in the depths of hell the man could hide from him. He'd take special care not to lose himself like the last time, always holding onto the light that Emma brought him, but Killian Jones, for all his honor, for all his good form, would not allow Morris to get away for a second longer than necessary.

* * *

That night, it took hours for Killian to fall asleep. He needed the rest, needed his mind functional, but for the life of him, he couldn't relax. The bed was not an option, maybe it never would be again, and he sprawled out on the hard floor instead, only him allowing the small comfort of his pillow. There he stayed for hour after hour, trying not to see that last vision of Emma, reaching for him with death's claws in her, every time he rolled over. Eventually he turned to his rum and eagerly drank and drank the stuff down until the room spun but that only reminded him of Emma too, the times she'd drink with him and would ramble on adorably, something to do with Mary going around. Eventually, he passed out with the drunkenness and exhaustion but even in that would-be blessed unconsciousness, he saw her, he dreamed of her.

Oh, yes. Sleep was worse than the waking world.

He saw her in wishes, in memories, in everything from the beanstalk to Neverland, from Lake Nostos to their private wedding. He dreamt of the times they made love, the ones that actually happened as well as the ones that only happened in his head. His mind imagined her going through the motions of her days, fueled by the memories he already had, visions of her taking a bath, riding the bowsprit like she was the damn figurehead, working on his maps, and making the bed each morning. The worst though, the dreams that made him writhe in pain and whimper like an abused animal, unable to escape the nightmare, were those dreams of the future they'd never have.

They were home, in her parent's castle, and he entered their bedroom. Emma was there, sitting in one of the high-backed, wing chairs, reading a leather-bound book. Her hair was glorious, golden ringlets falling down around her shoulders in wild and rebellious abandon and her face was glowing, so happy, content and soft. Her eyes lifted from her book and the smile she gave him stole his breath away with its brilliance. And then he saw it. As his eyes swept her body, as was his custom, he took in the very simple and flowing white dress she wore, beautifully showing off the generous swell to her belly.

"_Your child," _she began sternly, but with laughter in her eyes, "_Will not stop kicking!"_

"_And that's my fault, of course," _he teased her, moving closer to where she sat.

"_You're damn right it is," _she giggled. "_You just wait. Once I'm able to, I'll kick you a few times so you know what it feels like."_

"_You'll have to catch me first, love."_

"Don't worry, Killian. I'll find you."

Killian jolted awake at the sound of her voice. It was like she'd been in the room with him, the words were so perfectly formed and clear, but that was, of course, impossible. Lying back down, body trembling and shivering with the sheen of sweat covering his body, his fragile control cracked and he burst into tears, holding a firm hand over his mouth to muffle the cries of agony. That dream! It was the most wonderful and beautiful thing his villainous mind had ever conjured, not to mention, the cruelest, for it tempted him with the loss of the possibilities, the things that might have been. Seeing her pregnant in that dream made him crave it. He wanted that child with her! He wanted to see her body change, to be with her when she brought their little one into the world, to lie beside them, a family, _his_ family! He wanted that first one and more! He wanted to watch them grow with Emma at his side, teaching him how to be a father!

He wanted to grow old with her.

With a growl, Killian sat up and roughly unclicked his hook before hurling it at the wall, the point embedding perfectly into the wooden slats. Collapsing back to his hard bed, his crying intensified as his heart shattered more and more, the damage reverberating into his soul.

"I'm sorry, Emma!" he hollered, before forcing himself to a whisper, knowing there was no way to stop his devastated babbling. "Emma, forgive me. I'm sorry, love. I'm so, so sorry. Please, just let me die. Just let me go with her."

Time passed and his mournful whispers continued with the hours, and when the first tinges of dawn crept over the horizon, Killian finally passed out again, exhausted and empty.


	13. Chapter 13

_Three days earlier_

* * *

Emma Jones awoke with a desperate gasp, sucking air into her starved lungs.

_What the fuck?_

Trying to retrain her breathing into some normal rhythm that didn't threaten hyperventilation, Emma scrambled to get her bearings. She couldn't see shit! It was either pitch dark or her eyelids were broken. _Is this __hell, then_, she wondered idly, still trying to see something, anything, in the black room. But given that the cold cellar floor beneath her was solid, seemed to be made of dirt, was slightly damp, and her heart was thumping like a _motherfucker_, Emma had to conclude that by some wild miracle, she was definitely alive.

As the most horrifying scenes of her life came dashing back to the forefront of her mind, Emma fearfully reached her hand up and touched the mortal wound in her stomach, pressing harder as she discovered no pain and no hole, just solid skin, a tiny puckering of a scar, a rip through her vest and shirt, and the crackling beginnings of drying blood plastered to her skin and staining her clothes.

It was impossible! She should be dead! Shit, she _did_ die! How in the absolute _hell_?

_Where the hell is my Killian?_

A jolt of adrenaline shot through her and Emma whispered his name into the darkness before she remembered seeing Morris' lackeys knock him out and drag him away from her. That sonofabitch was building his own coffin! He took her husband! He murdered her and made him watch! She'd burn that bastard's ship down after strapping him to the mainmast!

A slight burning sensation on her chest distracted her before she flipped out too much and she palmed around her breastbone finding something hot and grainy. Frustrated with her confusion, Emma was more than ready to start figuring shit out, so she gingerly pulled herself from the ground, intent on finding that lamp in the room. Her body worked fine, responded without a hitch, just a bit sore and stiff as she stumbled through the dark room to where she thought she remembered the door being and beside it, a small table with the lamp she was after. Her hands hit the glass and iron of the thing, sending it toppling over but she caught it just before it shattered on the floor.

_Okay, now what?_

_Regina would slap you right now. We make fire, of course._

Taking a breath in an attempt to settle all her rioting thoughts and emotions, Emma focused and almost instantly, a little flame ignited in the lantern. It was so easy; it was like breathing, and Emma angrily wondered why she hadn't been able to conjure something when she needed it most, when she tried and tried but couldn't get her magic to work. But then, everything happened so quickly and then there was that little distraction of a big gaping hole in her gut.

Emma shook her head. She wasn't willing to waste anymore time on the past when she had a husband to find and possibly rescue, not to mention, she needed to collect herself and get going before someone found her and tried to finish her off for good. With a twist on the metal knob, she turned up the wick on the oil lamp, setting it back on the rough table to get a look at herself. The stuff she had in her hand was first up and she opened her palm to reveal black, glittering sand, cooling off as she held it. Scrunching her nose, Emma looked down at the boring floor beneath her. There was nothing like it in the cellar. The floor was just plain dirt. She hummed to herself and checked her chest where the burning sand seemed to come from. What she found kickstarted her heart again and sent her mind racing. Faintly, there between her breasts was a reddish mark from her now missing worry stone, that same necklace the little girl, Nimue, gave her that day in town. Emma was shaking as her fingers traced around her neck and chest, finding no sign of the stone or leather cord any longer except for the traces of warm black sand she brushed away and that faint, red imprint left behind in her skin.

Breathing heavily now, Emma freaked. That girl! Her mother said she was psychic and Nimue looked at Emma with such sorrow before giving her the necklace! Sputtering a surprised laugh, Emma wryly mused that psychic didn't cover _half_ of what the girl could apparently do. Somehow, she'd created a magic reset button out of a skipping stone and some cowhide! Somehow, that little girl saved her life! Tears poured from Emma's eyes and more shocked snippets of laughter burst from her body. She was alive! She was alive!

_Killian!_

Quickly snapping back into business mode, (She'd laugh and cry with joy later on down the road) Emma brushed away her tears and began to think and plan. She knew, thank God, that Morris didn't kill him. No, the fucker wanted Killian alive so he'd suffer. Two of Morris' men hauled him out. Did they still have him? Morris _did_ seem like the type to keep a trophy of his victory, and who better than his heartbroken and suffering enemy? Her heart broke a little as well when she realized that somewhere, Killian was hurting. They were each other's happy endings and he thought she was dead! He watched the killshot!

"I'm not dead, Killian," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut and focusing on the words. "I'm not dead, babe. Don't worry. I'll find you."

_Time to move, Emma._

It was way past that. She had things to do. First, figure out where the hell she was, then escape, then find Morris and hopefully, her husband as well.

Whipping around, Emma looked over the room. The man she killed was still lying there, still dead, and quickly she retrieved her dagger from his throat, cleaning if off on his clothes before tucking it back into her belt. Smirking darkly, she shook her head. Morris left her armed because he was cocky, underestimated her because she was a woman. Someday, she'd remember to use that to her advantage. The darkness of the massive bloodstains on the floor lured her from her happy plotting and she reached down to feel, noticing with a bit of horror that the ground was still slightly wet. She apparently had not been dead long.

Frantically looking back at the door, Emma began to move faster. What if Morris sent someone back to clean up the mess? Move the bodies? Make sure the job was done? It was _definitely_ time to go.

With one last pat down, she checked that she had her sword, dagger, and pistol, but unfortunately, not her satchel. Of course they'd take the money she carried! That and the pieces of the jeweled forest including the worthless crystal and purpose of their journey in the first place. Wryly she wished them luck with the damn thing as she extinguished the lamp, drew her short sword, and readied herself for whatever was up the stairs.

Pressing her ear against the thick wooden slats, she strained to hear but came up with nothing, so with a deep breath she eased the door open a crack, slipped through, and cautiously climbed the stairs. Eventually, a fairly roomy, rustic kitchen came into view with tapped barrels of ale resting on wooden tables, crude dishes stacked beside a large washtub, and a heavily curtained doorway with occasional laughter and conversation passing through it. Just as she was about to emerge from the cover of the shadowed stairwell, an older man swept through the curtain carrying some more dirty plates to the stacks before leaving again. It was just a glimpse through the door but Emma knew the place. She was at the Crowned Crow! The same damn tavern! A decent amount of activity still filled the pub but it appeared to be an hour or so into the AM. Quite possibly it was still the same night they'd been ambushed.

Emma braced herself, sword ready. She was going to get some real answers. All she'd wanted was a drink, some good food, a good time, her pirate, and her happily ever _fucking_ after and instead she got murdered in a dark and dusty cellar, a hole in her favorite leather bodice, blood everywhere, and a missing husband. A missing husband and lover she was going to find, God help whomever was stupid enough to get in her way! The old man entered again, short and thin, fumbling with another load of dishes. Emma didn't remember seeing him while she'd been partying but he appeared to be an owner of the place. Whatever his story was, he was her interrogation target and before he could leave, she pounced.

"Do not move or make a noise," Emma warned quietly, her sword point in the middle of the man's back. Fearfully, the man rose his hands in surrender and with a firm grip on his threadbare collar, she steered him further into the kitchen, slamming him against some ale barrels. "Where is my husband?" she demanded, her sword now staring him in the face.

"Wh- Who?" a wide-eyed and confused face stuttered.

"Don't play games with me! I am so _not_ in the mood!" she growled. "Where did Captain Morris take my husband?"

"I- I don't know nothing of your husband!" the man cried aloud before the nearing point of her weapon made him lower his voice to safer level. "I swear it! Captain Morris paid me for use of my cellar, but told me nothing of what he was using it for! And I didn't ask!"

Emma chewed on that for a moment. He was telling the truth but she was still pissed. "The _Captain _tried to murder me! You didn't hear anything? You didn't see them drag a man out of there?"

The man looked appalled and shocked for a second before shaking his head earnestly. "No, miss! I was busy with my patrons! Full house tonight with both ships in! But there's a back door over by the stairs. Could be they used that to come and go?"

Emma glanced back that direction and found the door. She also found her satchel, hanging with some cloaks on pegs near the exit.

Turning back to glare at the old man, she gestured towards her purse. "That your payment?" At his hesitant nod she scowled at him. "Well, it's mine."

"Take it, miss! I don't need it!" he cried, shrinking back into the barrels behind him.

Emma sighed and refocused before pressing some more. "Did Morris say anything about his plans after this? Is he still docked?"

The old man's face lit up a touch. He had something to tell her. "No, he ain't docked no more but I heard him mention he had a big reward waiting for him up in Wistern."

"So I've heard. Where's Wistern?"

"If you please, miss. I have an old map that I can show you," he offered.

Emma nodded and let him free, following him to a tiny desk in the kitchen near her back exit where he withdrew a browned piece of paper, unrolled it, and pointed to spot on the coast. "Here, ma'am. Before the curse it was a busy port, much bigger than our little place here. I have no clue if it's recovered, though."

The place he pointed out was a good little distance from her current location, up to the Northwest. Home was the other direction across an expanse of ocean. Plans began to churn in Emma's head but she needed to get moving.

"Can I keep this?"

The old man nodded. "Aye, miss. Take it."

Emma reached to the pegs and took back her satchel, digging through it for a moment before she plucked a diamond oak leaf stolen from the cursed forest, offering it to the wide-eyed man. "You have not seen me, understood?" At his nod she continued. "I'm not alive, you've never heard of me, you've never seen me before, you don't know a thing. In fact, if _anyone_ starts asking questions, you play as dumb as possible, got it?"

"Aye, ma'am," he promised, accepting his payment. Emma packed up her map and was just turning for the door when he stopped her. "Wait! Miss, take some food with you, please? As my apology?"

Emma hesitated, unwilling to trust him and also not wanting to waste anymore time, but she'd need the supplies, so at her nod, the man scurried about, snatching up this and that and stuffing it into a worn sack.

"Not a word," she reminded him strongly when he finally handed her the pack. "And there's a dead guy in your cellar you might want to get rid of as soon as possible."

He only nodded seriously and then with a tight, apologetic smile, he turned and hobbled down the stairs to take care of the corpse. That was Emma's cue to leave also and she snagged one of the thin, black cloaks from the pegs, donning it and pulling the massive hood low over her face before slipping out the door.

Behind the Crowned Crow was a small and simple stable and Emma laughed softly to herself when she saw a lone horse, saddled and munching on some hay, probably belonging to the old man she just put through the paces. Back to life with transportation ready and waiting. It really _was_ her lucky day.

She'd only had a few riding lessons since coming to the Enchanted Forest and right now she was going to need every one of them to pay off. Thankfully, the chestnut brown horse was a mild-mannered thing and didn't even bat an eye when she approached to free the reins and climb up. It may or may not have taken her a few tries. And that old crate lying around. Once seated, however, she adjusted her cloak again and gently eased her new, stolen friend out of the stable and into the night, where the cobblestone streets of the little coastal town were empty and silent, respecting the late hour.

Emma took a quick look at the docks. The Jolly was still anchored and seemed to be just as calm and quiet as everything else. They didn't know anything was wrong. They had no reason to. She very clearly remembered the conversation she overheard before she _died_. The traitor was giving his boss a head start. The peace also confirmed her worst fears and flared her anger once more. Killian wasn't there. Surely, if he'd been released or dropped off, there would have been _some_ sort of activity, something more than a quietly docked ship and oblivious sailors.

Resolved and ready, Emma took a hard breath. She couldn't return to the Jolly, not with an unknown traitor hanging around who might try to finish the job or tip Morris off somehow. As much as she loved those boys, she couldn't trust any of them now. Not even Farren, who'd become a good friend to both her and Killian. No, Emma Jones was dead and she'd keep it that way as long as possible, using it to her advantage any way she could. A cold smile lit up her face when she realized that she already had a leg up. She had Morris' heading and after studying the map and then the sky for a moment, looking for the constellations Killian had taught her, she had hers. And the best part was, Morris had no idea she was coming.

According to that map, he would have to sail around the generous curve of the coast to reach Wistern while she could take a straight shot through, via the ancient road indicated on the parchment. She might not beat him there, but she wouldn't be far behind. True, it wasn't the World Without Magic and all its tech and information to make it all so wonderfully simple, but if there was one thing Emma was good at, it was finding people. Call it a family trait. She'd go to Wistern, hunt Morris down, and take back the precious treasure he'd taken from her. Somebody just _try_ to stop her.

Taking one last look at her second home, Emma eased her horse around and proceeded silently out of the small, slumbering town until she hit the woods and her road. The darkness of the thick forest swallowed her and feeling safe and relieved after her successful escape, she booked it, hearing nothing but the thunder of hooves on the ground beneath her, like a whitenoise balm for her worried mind_._

* * *

_A few nights later_

* * *

Emma climbed into her small, fern covered tent, thankful that she was roughing it in the summertime and that the nights were comfortable. She'd actually covered good ground over the last few days, pushing herself as hard as she could, but she needed the rest and forced herself to do so. Her belly was decently full from eating a bit of bread and jerky from her sack of provisions and she shared a little with Bob, as she decided to name the horse, who had her apple and some local grass. For the night, he was tied to a nearby tree. Relaxing into her makeshift bed and pulling her cloak over her, Emma gripped her dagger in her hand and closed her eyes. She wasn't a woodsy person by trade, but she was a survivor and those instincts worked anywhere. Her brain, ever the pessimist, asked her what she'd do when she ran out of food and Emma smirked with warped humor when she considered trapping and barbecuing a chipmunk just to see her mother's reaction when she told her about it.

For about the thousandth time since coming back from the dead, Emma wondered who in the hell was out to get her. Rumplestiltskin was an obvious choice. The deals, his warning/threatening words at the ball, the magic that Morris was packing, the Dark One was an easy choice. Almost_ too_ easy of a choice, dammit. He'd said death wasn't in the cards for her, so who else had she pissed off lately that could pay a big baddie to put her down? She'd thought she was doing okay with the whole not making enemies thing!

Emma sighed heavily. She missed Killian. It wasn't like they weren't able to _function_ without the other, but he was her partner, had been ever since the beanstalk and "we make quite the team". She smiled at the memories of those early beginnings but it didn't stay long. How could she smile when he was out there somewhere in pain, thinking she was dead?

Too many people stolen from her pirate, too many crushed hopes and years of despair. How much could one man take? Begging the twinkling stars above, Emma prayed that Killian wouldn't go off into the revenge deep end again, into the good old-fashioned dark side, but if he did, she soothed herself, she'd just find him and drag his ass back. Of course, if he did go on a revenge rampage, she would never blame him, could _never_ blame him. Were their roles reversed, she'd be right there tearing apart the entire world to find Morris. Hell! She was damn near doing that already!

She needed to sleep. Her body ached from riding and her eyes were begging to close. She'd do a shit job of finding her pirate if she didn't rest, so Emma forced out the heavy thoughts and replaced them with much better ones. Imagining Killian's arms around her, his lips on her neck, his hard body against her back, were the perfect things to relax her and it wasn't long before she surrendered to sleep, her promise to him on her lips, sent out to wherever he was.

_Don't worry, Killian. I'll find you._


	14. Chapter 14

Jarrett was never a weak man growing up, but somewhere along his many years of hard living, scraping by during the dark years when everything stood still, and then finally returning to his home to start all over, his old age had brought with it a tendency to be skittish and his latest brush with one too many pirates, did not help matters. At three score and eight, not counting those cursed years, it was too much for his old heart to rent his cellar to those mean looking sailors who'd threatened him to keep busy elsewhere until they were done, only to later be held at sword point by an enraged female crying foul, and finally left with a blood soaked cellar and an already stiffening and stinking corpse. It wasn't even supposed to be his night to work! It was his brother-in-law's but with him taken ill, Jarrett had been forced into it! So, it was with a good dose of apprehension that otherwise glorious and cheerful morning, not even a week since his near heart attack, that he noticed a ship he recognized slip into the docks.

"Lydia!" He snapped his towel at the lazy barmaid helping him clean. "Finish this. There's things I need to do in the kitchen. And if anyone comes looking for me, I'm too busy to see them."

"Whatever," she sighed grumpily, rubbing an angry path over one of the warped wooden tables.

The heavy curtain settled behind him as he fled to the back of the tavern but there Jarrett fumbled, not exactly feeling safe and considering going home with his own sick excuse or simply losing himself amongst the ale barrels, hoping nobody would find him. He argued with himself for too long and his nagging fears were confirmed as he heard the main door open and the terrifying thud of bootsteps in the main room.

"_What canna get you gents_?" he heard Lydia ask perkily, a quick change from her usual grumbling.

"_Your boss_," came a cold voice that brooked no damn refusal and sent chills up Jarrett's spine. "_Where is he?_"

"_I've a few bosses_," Lydia back-talked with a touch of coyness. "_You'll havta-_"

A squeal interrupted and effectively silenced her before that terrifying voice spoke again. "_Does it bloody look like I care which one?_"

"_He's in the back. Said he was too busy_," she said quickly and fearfully.

Before Jarrett could think better of his dallying and scamper away, the curtain separating the kitchen and main hall was thrown open and two men instantly cornered him, no escape in sight. They were both obviously men you didn't want to rile, the younger of the two Jarrett recognized as the pirate who'd come looking around the morning after that terrible night. A young man he was, not so very scary, but a warning still swirled in Jarrett's belly to not cross the lad. But the man would be the least of his troubles, for beside the young sailor was _that_ one, the one in all black like he was death itself, with his chilling blue eyes, hardened, scowling face, and horrifyingly, a sharpened silver hook for a hand, _he _was the one that made Jarrett seriously fear for his life. Oh, he'd heard the girls babbling about that one the last time the Jolly Roger was there, the one with the hook. They'd called him _handsome_. Bloody daft females! God help that misfortunate blonde lady he'd helped if _this_ scary bastard was looking for her! Poor girl! Morris seemed bad enough but this one! What trouble had such a nice looking young lady stirred up for herself?

"I understand there was an altercation in your cellar not a week ago," the blue-eyed one stated tightly, fiddling with the point of his hook.

"I- I- I've already told your man here all I know!" Jarrett blurted out in a hurry, remembering what she'd told him. Play dumb. Aye, he could do that!

"There was a murder in your cellar!" the man growled, flashing that hook in front of Jarrett's face dangerously. "Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you to be so very ignorant!"

"Look," Jarrett pleaded. "Captain Morris, he asked to use my cellar and told me to get lost. When he was done, I got paid and that was it!"

Some truths and some lies. He could do this! Hopefully.

"You didn't question the blood staining the floor? You didn't see a body? Didn't see a young, blonde woman?" The pirate's voice wavered just slightly but his anger came across perfectly through his shouting and enraged eyes.

"No! I saw nothing and no one! I swear it! Nor was I to ask a group of pirates who paid me well why they made such a bloody mess!"

The man regarded him for a moment, seething with rage, but seeming to accept his lies. He looked to his man and spoke to him next. "Keep him here. I need to see."

With that he headed for the cellars, leaving a fidgeting Jarrett with the younger man who had hawk eyes trained on him. A few uncomfortable and silent minutes passed, minutes that felt like _hours_, before the Captain returned and it could have been his overwrought imagination, but he appeared even angrier, if that was possible.

"Did Morris happen to mention where he was heading next?"

Jarrett hesitated. Was this question covered in the things he wasn't supposed to tell? The lady seemed more interested in keeping _herself_ a secret, not the information on Morris. The glower on the man's face grew deeper as he waited for an answer and Jarrett knew he had to give up something to appease him, and quickly. Besides, the girl took his horse, had a week's head start, and definitely seemed like a lass who could handle herself. Surely, she'd be alright!

"Wistern," he chirped up before that hook got any closer. "He was going to Wistern. I don't know why. Something about payment."

Recognition and—Was that _hope_?—sparked in the blue eyes that slid to his man once again. "We'll finish the search and make for Wistern immediately."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Out the backdoor," the man instructed his sailor and as quickly as they came, they were out again.

Jarrett slumped against the wall in relief, sending out a little prayer for the unlucky woman and wondering if his heart was finally giving out. He was too buggering old for this nonsense.

* * *

They'd found a grave buried in that town, not Emma's, however, some poor sailor's. Killian recognized the bastard as one of Morris' from that night, probably irritated the Captain one time too many. The mortal wound in the man's neck was brutal and despite loathing the worthless cur for his role in Emma's murder, he and Farren reburied the man, replacing the stones on top before they were off again on their hopeless and ultimately fruitless search. Emma wasn't there.

So they'd set sail for Wistern that same day, mere hours since docking since time was crucial. Their designation was just about a two week journey in good weather and Morris unfortunately already had a few days on them. Luckily, the sea was good to Killian and for much of the journey the wind seemed to be on his side, but this particular day, after a little more than a week at sea, promised to be rougher as the clouds above were assembling quickly and the rumbling of thunder and the restlessness of the water told of the coming storm. The dolphins had yet to be scared off by the threat, however, and for the time being still ran carelessly alongside the hull, laboring to keep up as the Jolly Roger and faithful crew pushed past the halfway mark on their trek to Wistern.

Killian observed those dolphins over the rail, lost in remembering how Emma always smiled and laughed to see them, perfectly to content to simply sit and watch them for a good while. It hurt. The memory. They all bloody hurt. Numbly, he counted the days in his head again. A little more than two weeks since her death and it still felt like only minutes. He knew quite well that he'd be broken forever, that the weight on his chest would never move. There wasn't another miracle for him, no second or third chance, now. His life was over. The only consolation he had was Morris' heading and the promise he repeated to himself that soon the man would pay dearly for the death of his much loved wife, his entire world.

Before Killian had to excuse himself to recover his composure, a cry of ship sighted rang over the deck and Killian frantically produced his glass, peering through. They didn't beat Morris there, but they found him nonetheless!

"Is that him?" Farren asked tensely.

"Aye," Killian answered, replacing his spyglass with a frown. "Appears that he's waiting on us."

"Guns?"

"Get them ready but I doubt he's looking for an exchange of shot," he instructed with a nod. "Pull up beside her and keep your eyes open."

Killian didn't leave the quarterdeck railing, a thousand questions running rampant in his mind as his crew carried out their new orders. Clearly the pirate was up to something but engaging in battle with a ship that was ready for him, was just not his way. More than likely he was there to gloat and Killian could only hope, despite knowing better, that the verbal skirmish would somehow end with his hook in Morris' throat.

It took only a little time for the Jolly to pull up alongside the Howling Bitch, the mocking, evil, and gleeful faces of its crew and finally its Captain, coming into view as the sky continued to darken and the wind whipped ominously around them.

"We meet again, Jones!" Nathaniel cried from his own quarterdeck, laughing happily along with a grumbling of nearing thunder. "Truth be told, I had every intention of just sailing off to my next amusement but I simply had to see how you were doing with you little loss. So, tell me, Jones. Sleeping alright? Eating regularly?"

Killian said nothing, only stared the smirking bastard down, wishing he could simply kill him with a glare, while organizing his contingency plan to jump the short distance between their ships and attack when glaring failed.

"Oh, don't be such a poor sport," Nathaniel called out again with a dramatic sigh, a vain toss of his hair and a chuckle. "Look, I've realized the error of some of my ways."

"Only some?" Killian clipped.

"Aye," Morris smiled. "I see now that it was wrong of me to not let you stay with Emma until the end. I see that I should have let her die in the arms of her lover rather than alone. Perhaps I should have had mercy on her, finished her off like a broken horse instead of letting her suffer. It was – What do you always say, Jones?" He paused and pretended to think for a moment before slapping the rail with a laugh. "Bad form! That's it!"

Killian was fairly certain that the wood beneath his hands would bear the mark of him bearing down on it. Anything to keep himself together. Fury pulsed through him but he used it to focus himself, rather than doing something stupid, like risking the lives of his crew or somehow sink his chances of landing a killing blow. He knew this game Morris was playing and he'd need to keep as level-headed as possible.

The pirate smiled knowingly before he continued. "My behavior in mind, I'd like to offer my apologies and a small, tiny little peace-offering."

Before Killian could reject anything the bastard could give him, Morris motioned for his men and Killian's brain froze, his attempts to keep a clear head forgotten as he saw what they bore. On a plain wooden board lay a white bundle, one he'd seen far too many times for his taste. It was the right size, the right height.

_Emma._

"I'm guessing you may want this, no?" Morris smirked. "As lovely as she is, 'fraid I cannot bear to have her on board any longer. The smell and all."

"Let me see her!" Killian demanded with his eyes locked on the body of his wife as large rain drops began to fall from the sky and both ships began to buck at the increasingly violent waves.

"You want to see her?"

"Dammit, Morris! Hand her over! Is there not one shred of decency in you that will not allow her to be sent to sea by loving hands?" Killian found himself pleading.

Nathaniel laughed aloud. "Oh, but I admit she was a pretty lass. Who's to say my hands aren't loving enough for her?"

"Morris, I swear I will-" He didn't finish his threat because with another laugh, Morris gave the word and the lackeys carrying Emma's body unceremoniously chucked her into the darkening depths of the ocean, chuckling right along with their Captain.

Killian's brain could only focus on one thing, Emma and his last chance to see her, so without thinking he stripped his sword belt off and dove overboard, chasing her sinking body into the shadowy and troubled sea. She was going fast and he had to swim hard to reach her, his breath burning in his lungs and his muscles protesting the violent exercise. It was only with some luck that he caught and latched on to a loose piece of rope binding her shroud together and with it in hand, he used it to get closer. The weight of her felt wrong, but Killian paid it no mind, too afraid to dwell on the fact that her body was already stiff and cold and currently pulling him further into the deep as he began to pull at the white canvas she was wrapped in. With some careful rips with his hook, he finally managed to loosen her bindings and with impatience and desperation, Killian tore open the canvas and his heart broke all over again.

Rocks. Bloody rocks. Some old blankets and stuffing. Worthless pieces of scrap.

No Emma.

Morris tricked him and in his grief, he'd fallen for it easily. Had he been able to think clearly, he would've known better. Morris never would have kept her so long. He was a bloody idiot for missing that rather large detail.

_Dammit!_

Growling out his rage, the wasted air bubbling viciously around him, Killian momentarily thought of tying himself to the sinking rubble and just ending it there under the ocean, but he was no coward. Heartbroken, hopeless, wretched, and worthless, yes, but not a coward. Emma reminded him of that. The peaceful void of being so far under the water helped to settle him, however, helped him clear his mind and he stayed there for a moment, embracing the spot of peace and even hope. Morris was going to fuck up one day with all his games and arrogance and Killian would do all in his power to be there when he did. This little dalliance of his to gloat and play instead of escaping cleanly, was proof of that.

The need to breathe grew critical and Killian hurried to push himself to the surface, noting that Morris' ship was no longer casting its shadow in the water around him. He was making his escape while Killian was lost under the blackening sea. Bloody coward had it all so perfectly planned.

Killian broke the surface with a desperate gasp of air and listened as commotion rang out on his ship along with the now deafening grumbling of the sky. He waited for the rope he knew was coming, securing himself to it to be hauled from the tossing sea when it landed near him and by the time his back hit his deck, the promised storm was quite seriously weighing down on them as torrents of rain poured out from the sky and the wind and lightning cracked and screamed around them.

Farren was shouting orders to the crew, demanding every inch of sail to chase the faster ship of Captain Nathaniel Morris, rapidly disappearing in the mountainous waves and heavy darkness.

"He's gone, sailor!" Killian hollered at his quartermaster, trying to be heard over the storm.

"Beg your pardon, Captain?" Farren barked from the helm.

"He's gone!" he repeated. "We won't catch him in this bloody storm! Not without killing ourselves! We go to Wistern! Try to learn his next move!"

Farren hesitated for a moment, not liking the truth of their situation, but he nodded obediently and hurried to help his mates when Killian took the wheel from him. As much as Killian hated losing Morris, as much as he wanted to chase him down even in a storm that might very well cost him his life, the lives of his crew were not to be sacrificed. Not only did an entire lifetime of being a sailor teach him that, but Emma too and even with her gone forever, he did not wish to disappoint her.

And so he bunkered down on the helm, using all his centuries of experience to battle the storm beating down on them. Live to fight another day, no matter how bitter a taste it left you with.

* * *

_A few days later_

* * *

That chipmunk barbecue was sounding better and better everyday. Emma was about sick of the tough, flavorless, much too salty jerky that she was pretty sure, with an apology to Bob, was horse. Sighing, she fumbled among the blackberry bush she'd found, cussing like, well, like a fucking sailor, each time her finger pricked itself on a sharp thorn. Her supplies were dwindling after a little more than two weeks on the road, her ass hurt, and she hadn't seen a soul since leaving the Crowned Crow. Poor Bob had been the victim of much of her talking. As if all that wasn't enough to irritate her, she was disgusting, still coated in dried blood and dirt, sweat and road grime. That little freshwater stream near the snarling, tangled blackberries where she'd refilled her crude skein was looking oh so tempting for a quick dip, especially in the heat of the late summer day. She'd be quick... It was really hot and she was really gross...

No, she decided quickly with a shake of her head as she stuffed the last blackberry into her sack and stood to leave. No bath. Not yet, unfortunately. She needed to keep moving. The days were going by too quickly and Emma was getting restless and impatient. Hopefully, when she found Killian, he'd forgive her for smelling like she did, for the dirt under her fingernails and _everywhere_, and for the dried blood coating her stomach and staining her clothes, a constant reminder of just what the hell she was doing tramping around the forest.

Bob turned up his nose at the blackberries and Emma simply shrugged at his pickiness and hopped up. After two weeks of riding, she'd damn near become a pro! She laughed to herself, however. After this was over, she never wanted to see another horse again. She told Bob so and he snorted at her. Emma apologized and with a thump of her heels to put him into a small gallop, they were on the road again.

_Don't you fucking dare start singing that song._

It was a losing battle because come that afternoon as she took on a moderate sized hill in the road, she was humming it and occasionally making up her own ridiculous lyrics. Everything halted, however, as she crested and saw the small village down below. It wasn't Wistern yet. No, there was still no ocean in sight, but it was her first brush with civilization in far too long and she could get an idea of how much road she had left.

"Think you can stretch your legs for me again today?" she asked Bob, stroking his neck affectionately.

He didn't answer her, not unusual, but when she pushed him into overdrive, he didn't complain and they flew down the hill, quickly reaching the tiny village. Looking around at the small handful of buildings, Emma found a small little place that appeared to be an inn and she was there in a hurry, hitching Bob to a post and dashing inside as fast as her sore body allowed her.

It was small inside the main room, only a few worn tables and chairs, no patrons, just a lone, average looking and middle-aged man behind the counter, drying some dishes and eyeing her curiously.

"New here?" he asked her in a friendly tone.

"Yeah," she sighed, happy for the human interaction as she approached the bartop. "Actually, I'm just passing through. Can you tell me how far I am from Wistern?"

"Wistern? Only about a good three day ride from here."

"Are you serious?" Emma gasped, hardly believing that she was so close.

"Yes ma'am," the man chuckled. "If you're in a hurry, you might even make it a touch sooner." He paused as she smiled wide and lit up with the first bit of good news she'd had in a while. "But if you don't mind me saying, dear," he began again hesitantly, "You look like you could use a good night's rest. Surely, your journey can wait til the morn, no?"

Emma was just about to turn him down, but something in her brain said no. God, she was tired! Sleeping on the ground here and there had been a major pain in her ass and back and everything else! Just one night wouldn't hurt her, would it? She'd leave at first light well-rested and ready to go, cover the last bit of ground underneath her, refreshed.

"Do you have food?" her mouth asked before she could halt it.

The innkeeper laughed heartily. "That I do, ma'am. Nothing special but I've a good loaf of bread and a roasted chicken that's almost done. No wine, I'm afraid."

"Beer?"

"Yes, ma'am," he laughed again.

That settled it. Emma dug through her satchel for her coin and pulled out four solid gold coins, offering them to the man. "Will this cover a meal and a room for the night?"

He took the coins, testing one between his teeth just like in the movies before chuckling. "Meal, room, and I'll have my daughter set you up with a bath. Sound good?"

"That would be amazing," she agreed, relief already working on the kink in her shoulders.

And it was definitely that. The bathwater was meager and only lukewarm, but she had enough to wash the blood and grit from her skin and hair and feel _clean_ for once. The food was good and Emma munched as she dried her hair with a threadbare towel in her tiny room holding the small wooden tub, a little stove for the winter months, and a simple bed about the size of her bed on the Jolly she shared with Killian.

An unintentional pout stole over her face. Her Killian. Closing her eyes tightly, she hoped with all her might that he was alright, that he was safe. Thinking of him made her want to immediately hit the road again but she needed at least one night of rest. She'd be no good trying to find and rescue her husband if she was drained. So, Emma dutifully ate her dinner and as much as she wanted to run downstairs and grab another beer, she instead locked her door and crawled into the little, but clean bed, naked unfortunately, as her clothes were drying after the quick wash she'd given them and would be ready for her come morning.

Emma was far more exhausted than she ever admitted to herself and it was a damn wonder she didn't keel over on the road because as soon as her head hit the pillow, instead of thinking about Killian like she wanted to, she passed out. It wasn't all bad, though. All her dreams were of him.

Emma dreamed of sailing, of the deep blue ocean, of standing at the helm with Killian by her side, the wind in their hair and smiles on their faces. She dreamed of swordfights and banter, of leather and cuddling in their cozy bed, and wonderfully, she dreamed of other things in that bed.

It was so real, so perfect just like every time they came together, and Emma couldn't stop touching him as he loved her, diving into her over and over again.

"_Killian," _she moaned into his mouth as their lips met. _"I miss you so much. God, I miss you."_

"_My Emma," _he breathed against her neck, still thrusting and hitting that spot perfectly like he was so very good at. _"I miss you so much, love. I love you. I'll love you forever. Come with me, sweetheart. Please, love."_

She'd never been very good at resisting him so her body instantly obeyed his and soon she was crying out his name but she was no longer dreaming. Her cries bounced off the walls of the tiny inn's room and she felt cold and empty being so rudely kicked from her heated dream. Collapsing back onto her thin pillow, Emma gasped and panted, coming down from her explosion. She'd never had one in a dream like that, hell, never had one of those dreams that was so _real_! She could still feel his warm skin under her fingers, his chest hair brushing across her breasts. She could feel _everything_. Clenching her fists, she punched the lumpy mattress of her bed. Killian Jones had her even when he wasn't even there! And she needed him there!

Tired and emotional, Emma began to cry. She missed him so much! Never before had she let herself become so reliant on somebody else and as much as she knew that love was strength, it hurt like a bitch! She needed him there, not just to love her, not just to love him, but just to have him around! To talk to, to laugh with, to simply share the air!

Sleep. She needed it badly and she gave herself a hard shake to refocus. Pulling the blankets higher, she tried to settle back in, soothing herself with imaginings of her husband and lover stroking her back as he liked to do while she renewed her promise to find him and make those who took him, killed her, and broke his heart, pay.


	15. Chapter 15

_AN: I just wanted to take a little moment to say thanks for all the reviews! It truly makes me happy that you enjoy this story as much as I'm enjoying telling it! Now, onwards! - Dani_

* * *

Wistern was still the thriving and bustling town that Killian remembered from so many years ago, if not just a bit smaller and run down, clearly still rebuilding like the rest of the realm. But some things never change and good ports were good ports, even if ships weren't out and about quite like they used to be.

The nearly disabling pain in his heart was another of those things that would never change. True, it was now just over three full weeks since Emma's death but he knew that the crushing, ever-present ache of her loss would never leave him. It took over three hundred years to soothe the hurt of his first lost love. How much longer then would it take him for this one, his True Love, his wife? Nothing short of forever, he was absolutely certain. Each night he dreamed of her, lived with her there in the land between sleeping and waking, and each day the memory of just how she was viciously stolen from him played over and over in his mind. Catching and then losing Morris in that bloody storm was cruel luck and after battling the tempest, they'd been thrown off course, losing a day just to add insult to injury. Wistern was truly their only remaining option and Killian desperately hoped that there was some news to be had of Morris' next stop.

"Three hours, sailors! Aye?" Farren called out Killian's orders over the deck and a round of ayes answered him. "Wir and Lewis, you two are on guard duty!"

"But Farren, I-!" the new lad began to complain, his face crushed at the knowledge that there'd be no shore leave for him, no matter how short.

"No bloody '_buts_', Wir!" Farren snapped, guiding the wheel with frustration. "We've no time to spare and you were on leave last we docked! No complaining, sailor!"

Killian was glad to let his man handle it. He didn't quite trust his emotions anymore and knew he might end up tossing a good young sailor overboard if provoked just the slightest bit. His mind was far too occupied to deal with discipline anyways and he waited impatiently until he could head into town. First stop for information would be the town's tavern, of course. If there was any news to be had about particular ships arriving and departing and their sailors, he'd find it there. Farren had already volunteered to head deeper into town to ask around, a service Killian was profoundly grateful for, touched by his loyalty. Meanwhile, the crew would get in a short break from their unforgiving pace over the last few weeks and hopefully that would be enough to sate them before they hit the next unknown leg of their mission.

The very moment the Jolly settled, Farren reminded the crew of their time limit and encouraged them to get moving while Killian was already boots to dock, hurrying to Wistern's popular inn and tavern, a favorite of sailors stopping by. It was a place he knew the name of once, long ago, but couldn't care to recall now. He knew where it was and that's all that mattered to him as the wooden slats of the dock gave way to the smooth stone of the busy streets, crowded with all manner of people on foot, on horseback, or in carts, bartering and trading, laughing and arguing, living their lives. Against his will he thought of how fantastic the thriving town was to find and how if Emma was still alive, they'd explore it, taking the information home with them about the lively place of survivors and quick reconstruction.

But not now. Not ever.

Turning down the correctly remembered street just a block from the docks, he found the place almost exactly as it was so very long ago, all worn stone and plaster face with a narrow but inviting front landing. The wooden door to the ancient tavern was hot from the full sun of the summer afternoon as Killian roughly shoved it open and strode straight for the bar in the back where a middle-aged, solidly-built man tended to his patrons, refilling mugs and taking payments. The barmaids, vultures that they were, noticed the new sailor in their midst before Killian could reach his target, but with a cold glare and a hint of a snarl he warned them all to keep their distance; he'd be spending no coin on them and they'd only be wasting their time.

"Ale for you, sailor?" the burly keep asked him carefully as Killian neared, warily eyeing the hook as people tended to do.

"No," Killian clipped with ice. "Information. Has a Captain Nathaniel Morris been in your pub lately?"

The man was already nodding before he finished. "Yes, sir, he was. Came in a few nights ago with his crew, pulled out after just a night in town."

Killian growled internally at the reminder that Morris' head start got him in town, paid by his benefactor, and out again. Dammit all to hell. "Did you hear where he was heading?"

"Sorry, sir, no," the man replied with a shake of his head. "He was in a fine mood, though. Seemed to be celebrating, given the amount of ale we sold that night."

_Fucking dog._

"Did he meet anyone here?"

"No, sir," the man said with another shake of his head as he refilled a patron's mug. "Not that I saw."

Despite his frustration, Killian curtly thanked the man and escaped the place before his crew could descend upon it. He needed to do some more digging. Someone had to know _something_ of Morris' plans; the tiniest thing could help him. Carefully stepping out of the way of a horse and rider approaching the tavern, Killian swiftly set off, heading deeper into the town to interrogate the bustling marketplace and perhaps meet up with Farren.

* * *

She made it!

Emma sighed with a huge amount of relief as she heard the distinct clack of hooves on stone streets beneath her.

Wistern! At last!

The pace of the last three days since leaving the little village buried in the forest was nothing short of breakneck. Knowing she was so close and _not_ speeding to finish line just wasn't an option and she rode and rode as much as Bob would let her. She napped briefly while her horse rested and once he was set, she was riding again. Her body ached, she was worn-out, her thighs were sore, but not even that, she smiled hopefully to her exhausted self with a snicker, would stop her from fucking Killian sideways once she found and rescued him, sore body or not! She missed that man!

Thankfully, she no longer reeked of death (Ha! Well, she either laughed at it or had to find Archie to help talk her through it) after her bath at the inn, but the dust from the road clung to her sweat and she was pouring buckets of it under the black swath of cloak she still wore, stolen from the Crowned Crow like Bob. Staying hidden was even more important now. This was the town where Morris was headed! This is where he and the Jolly's traitor would be coming for payment! So, Emma kept her hood low over her face and the long fabric, wrapped around her body for concealment.

Wistern was busier than she'd expected. It wasn't that they were untouched by the curse but from the looks of things, they'd rebounded well and quickly and people seemed to be everywhere, trading in the markets, building this and that, living their lives happily.

A large building complete with swinging wooden sign with the word's _Swan's Berth_ written on it, of all things, indicated the town's inn and tavern and Emma made a beeline for it once she spotted the place, guiding her horse through the people filling the streets as carefully as her limited experience and fatigue allowed her. Since she didn't feel anyone get trampled underfoot, she assumed most people were smart enough to just stay out of her way. Nearly falling out of her saddle once she stopped, Emma managed just enough strength to stay upright and after hitching Bob to one of the posts outside, she went in, adjusting her hood over her head and face.

The Swan's Berth was moderately active for early afternoon, patrons drinking and eating as coy and flirty young women worked the tables, and Emma went straight for the bar in the back where a husky, mild looking man played the part of bartender.

"Beer, please," Emma sighed, putting a coin on the table. He was quick and soon she had a full ale to quench her thirst and soothe her dry throat. "Hey," she called, motioning him over again after taking a deep, satisfying drink. "Question for you."

"What can I do for you, miss?" he replied easily with a friendly smile.

"I'm looking for a Captain Nathaniel Morris," she explained. "I heard he'd be coming here. Have you seen him?"

The barkeep's eyebrows scrunched together and he put down the mug he was working on before propping his hands on his hips and regarding her curiously for a moment.

"Something I said?" Emma ventured.

He laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, miss. It's only that there was a sailor just in here asking me the same damned question."

_That _was interesting. "Oh yeah? What sailor?"

"Didn't catch the name," he shrugged, getting back to drying his dishes.

Just as Emma was about to ask him more, the door swung open and in poured a group of sailors she more than recognized, hurrying to grab a table and order rounds of ale.

"The Jolly's here?" she yelped quietly to the bartender.

He was excitedly eyeing the group that just burst though, mentally calculating the money about to come in. "Can't say that I caught the name of his ship either, miss, but it appears they're just in if that's them."

Farren! It had to be him! He was out looking for Killian, too!

_Or_, the more cynical part of her interjected, he was their betrayer and was in town for his paycheck.

Remembering her need to stay "dead" Emma checked her hood and went back to questioning the poor guy putting up with her. "Was this sailor you talked to young? Brown hair? Kind of floppy? Wore a hat low on over his eyes?" she fired away, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

A snort of a laugh left the man and he shook his head strongly. "Oh, no, lady! Real scary bastard, this one. Dark hair, coldest blue eyes I've ever seen, missing a hand."

If he spoke anymore after that, Emma didn't hear him. She was frozen. Killian! He was there! He wasn't in Morris' hold! Relief, joy, gratitude, excitement, and a thousand other things chugged through her veins at the news. He was safe, with the Jolly, _and_, she finally put together, if he was in Wistern, he was hunting Morris like she was.

"How long ago was this?"

"Not five minutes, miss. I told him that Captain Morris was in a few nights ago then he left."

_Holy shit!_

"Okay," she said, her voice shaky with her shock and joy and she had to force herself to stay calm. "Last one, I promise. Morris was here for a payment for some shady work he did. Any idea where that might have gone down?"

The bartender put down another mug and thought about her question seriously for a few seconds. "Well, he came in with his crew, had a drink, and then left for a couple hours. When he came back he was in a real good mood. He _did_ buy a horse off one of my less sober patrons before he left."

"What's close by that he'd need a horse to get to and get back from?" Emma pressed excitedly, feeling close to something she'd dog-ear for later, after she tracked down her husband.

He thought about it for another moment before he lit up with his answer and though there was no one near enough to hear them, he leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his voice. "There's an old cottage out in the woods, just inside the treeline that way," he said, pointing out the direction. "No one lives there anymore as far as I know, but could be that's your place."

Emma smiled at him, truly thrilled with everything and gladly handed over a good stack of coins from her quickly depleting little purse. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "And if you could maybe forget that there was a woman in here asking you questions-"

"Did and done, miss," he winked, taking his payment and returning to his work with a happy whistle.

Another smile spread across her face before she began to plan her next move. Keeping her back to the rest of the pub, she listened in on the conversations of the Jolly's crew. Apparently, they were in a hurry and she quickly learned that they'd only been given a couple of hours to relax before the ship set out again, a ship she needed to get on somehow without being spotted by whoever their little Judas was. That's when one of the Jolly's boys sped past her, hand in hand with some wisp of a woman as they ran up the stairs laughing and Emma got an idea. With one last gulp from her beer, she was out the door and hustling to the docks.

Emma nearly cried with relief when her eyes landed on the Jolly sitting there, beautiful and real, but she quickly checked herself. Shit to do first. Celebrate later. First, up: Figure out which sailors were left watching the ship, so without getting too close, she prowled the edge of the docks until she could catch a glimpse of who was there, finding Wir and Lewis. A wicked grin hit her with her new knowledge and she chuckled at her crafty plan as she backpeddaled to the pub, counting out the last of her coins as she went. A young, red-headed woman with a pretty enough face was waiting on a table of a few locals inside the place and Emma quickly pulled her aside.

"Quick job for you," Emma said in a rushed whisper, showing the lady the money in her palm.

The redhead looked from the money to Emma a few times in confusion before taking a step backwards. "Sorry miss," she said shaking her head and widened emerald eyes. "I prefer the gents."

"Yeah, me too. Don't worry," Emma chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Come with me. I just need you to distract some sailors for me."

Sailors was the magic word and the girl quickly pocketed her money and followed Emma to the docks, listening to the simple plan along the way.

The barmaid was all for it, enthusiastic and dedicated to the bit of fun and Emma got her money's worth, nearly laughing her ass off as Lewis fell over himself, always a sucker for fiery red hair. Wir wasn't exactly disappointed to see the flirtatious young lady either. Daphne, that was her name, did great and got the two boys off the ship with a few siren calls and then distracted them long enough on the docks with her smiles, giggles, and strategic placement, that Emma was able to sneak past their turned backs silently and successfully, winking to Daphne as she passed by to tell her thanks.

Once the door closed behind her, safe in her cabin, Emma let herself laugh silently for her success and her all-consuming relief. She was safely hidden and in just a few hours she'd see Killian, and after all her fight to track down Morris and her continuing effort to keep their traitor ignorant, that's all that mattered! Yeah, it sucked that they missed Morris, but he could wait. Everything could wait until after she told Killian that she was alive, that he didn't lose her, that she was home!

Breathing deep, still overwhelmed with her homecoming, Emma moved into the room, taking in the new things that had appeared in her absence. Killian hadn't been sleeping in their bed and her heart broke a little as she noted the untouched bunk and the pillow laying on the wooden floor beside it. The thought that he'd been too wrecked to seek even the comfort found in a good night's sleep in a proper bed nearly made her break down. Her poor pirate. Shaking her head and looking away, her eyes went to the unusually cluttered table in the room and she moved closer in curiosity, sinking tiredly into one of the chairs. Pieces of paper were scattered carelessly over the table, some balled up, some ripped in two and as Emma examined them closer and the few words littering each, tears came to her eyes.

Killian tried writing to her family, attempted and gave up many times if the torn up pages of partially written words and sentences were any clue.

_I'm sorry... I failed you and her... It's my fault... She's gone... Pursuing Morris... Help, if you're willing... She wanted me to tell you of her love... You'll know best how to tell her son... I'm so sorry... __Find him even if it kills me... I don't know where she rests..._

Her eyes were flooded and Emma could no longer read. Instead, she tried to imagine how much hurt Killian had been in since everything blew up and even though the starts and stops of the many attempts at a letter gave her a fairly good idea, deep down she knew it was barely scratching the surface. She very clearly remembered the time he died on her, taken by the mermaid's curse in Neverland, and how devastated she was, losing a man she'd only just realized that she loved, but this was its own special kind of pain and suffering. He thought he lost his wife. They were True Loves, partners, and he'd lived with the hurt for a good three weeks! Far too long in her opinion!

Emma's attention was drawn away from those painful thoughts for more, as she spied a sheet covered in the black ink of a million apologies, all to her. Emma brushed the page with her hand and her tears flowed freely as she tried to read them through bleary eyes. They were all variations the same thing, repeated again and again, mingling with the occasional quill break or tear stain.

_I'm sorry, Emma._

He needed to come home, like _now_. She needed to let him know she was okay. Sniffing back the tears, Emma rested her head on the table, her weariness claiming her more and more now that her body knew her journey was over and in minutes, she was asleep under the quiet darkness of her trusty cloak, safe and secure in her home, clutching Killian's words in her hand.


	16. Chapter 16

The three hours were just up as Killian and Farren returned to the Jolly, and the crew, all present and on time like the good quality sailors they were, immediately got to work. Although the heading of Morris and his ship was hard to come by, eventually Killian found Farren in the streets of Wistern carrying some news with him. According to a local Farren happened upon, one that after a less than pleasant run-in with Morris and his crew had no problem telling the information he overheard free of charge, the Howling Bitch was going North to home base, somewhere in the Enchanted Forest, of all bloody places. It was hardly specific but the information was good, it was something, and Killian could work with it.

Sails unfurled, the course was set, and Killian remained on deck with his men, helping to put the Jolly out into the orange tinted sea reflecting the coming evening sky until she was swiftly cutting through the water, chasing down their enemy once again. It was a beautiful sight, one he'd never grow tired of, but the view and the softly, creaking sway of his ship in the open water were not the soothing sources of relief they once were. He'd lingered above deck for so long waiting for it, hoping that he'd find peace for his broken heart, but with no luck. The love he had for sailing, the newly reborn zest for life, everything fell flat and meaningless in the weeks since his wife's death. Since then, his heart was always much too heavy in his chest, like a yoke over his neck constantly weighing him down to the floor. Rum and sleep beckoned to him instead, the loneliness of his bunk, but sleep hardly helped him either for it only brought with it dreams of Emma.

Abruptly, he knew that's exactly what he wanted. To see her. Even if it was just a dream. Even if it only reopened the scabbing wounds in his heart.

"Farren," Killian called as he moved to the helm. "Take the wheel for me tonight, would you?"

His quartermaster nodded. "Not a problem, Captain. Get some rest."

"Aye. Wake me if need," Killian instructed as he opened the door to his cabin, eagerly wondering what dreams he would have of his love that night as he descended the steps. Would she simply be there in the room with him? Would they talk about how much they missed each other? Would they make love? Would they play with their children?

God help him! He knew he was only welcoming eventual insanity by entertaining such hope in his own uncontrollable imagination!

Someone was in his cabin.

Lost in his wildly churning thoughts, Killian didn't notice the black hooded form resting its head on his table, breathing slow and deep, until he reached the floor of his room. Was the intruder actually _sleeping_? Bloody fucking amateurs! All he wanted was to drink himself to sleep and see his wife but obviously that was too sodding much to ask for!

Killian drew his sword with a flourish, sending the loud metallic song bouncing off the small cabin's walls. The noise effectively woke his unwelcome guest and they shot up, startled, but Killian's voice halted any more movement, as did the blade he laid dangerously across the figure's shoulder.

"Do not move if you value your life," he growled darkly. "Now, who the bloody hell are you and what the hell are you doing on my ship?"

There was something strangely familiar about the form in front of him, something he felt in the back of his mind and deep in his chest as he coldly issued his warnings. Killian's curiosity about the entire scenario was already more than he had patience for so before the intruder could answer him, he angrily flipped back the generous hood with the point of his sword and a flick of his wrist, revealing a wealth of long blonde hair, blonde hair he knew every glorious inch of.

Killian stood frozen in shock, his sword still between them as she turned her head cautiously to look at him. Her green eyes were brimming with glittering tears, her pink lips turned up in the tiniest little smirk, and Killian could do nothing but stare in utter disbelief.

"Once upon a time," Emma spoke to him softly, "I crossed swords with a pirate. We got married."

Breathing heavily, still not trusting his eyes, it took Killian a long moment before he finally managed to speak, albeit unsteadily. "Am I dreaming already?" He knew he wasn't but nothing else made sense!

"No, baby," she whispered, shaking her head as a tear ran down her cheek and to her lips, struggling between a frown and a smile. "You're not dreaming. But if you want, I can pinch you."

Killian shook his head hard. It was impossible! He was losing his mind! He'd finally gone too far! Emma was _dead_! He saw what happened! But how could he explain her being there, waiting patiently on him under the weight of his sword? How was he seeing her in perfect detail, every fleck of gold in her green eyes, every soft quirk in her face? How was she sitting there, healthy and sound, breathing and alive? She was alive! Bloody hell, his love was alive!

As the truth began to win the battle with his own incredulity, Killian exhaled heavily and dropped his sword to the ground in a loud crash, freeing his hand to shakily rake through his hair. At the noise, she glanced to the door worriedly but quickly returned her eyes to him and he saw just how real she was in that moment. That shrewdness and alertness changing to mild humor, love, and longing, the things he'd never been able to recall as well in his mind, flashed across her face in that instant and he _knew_. It was real. She was real.

"Emma?" he whispered, barely able to speak. It was a brief ailment, however. "Emma!" he cried out stronger. "Em-"

She was up in an instant and covering his mouth with her hand to silence him. "Shh!" she whispered urgently, fear in her eyes. "We have to be quiet! No one can know I'm alive! Listen to me! We've got a traitor on board. He's working for Morris and they don't know that I'm still alive. I think we need to keep it that way."

Fury flooded his veins at the news of a rat on his ship, but Killian couldn't focus on it properly. Her hand was warm over his mouth, she was standing close, her beautiful skin glowing in the orange sunset coming through the windows, her damp green eyes sparkling with a thousand different emotions, and her mouth set in a small crooked smile. Emma! His Emma!

Hesitantly, Killian reached up with his hand to pull hers from his mouth, holding it delicately like he would somehow break her and she'd leave him again. "Is it really you, then love?" his whispered thickly. "Emma, tell me you're truly alive."

A few tears escaped her eyes and although she fought them, they bombarded her as she nodded eagerly and answered him. "I'm not dead, Killian. I'm here. I'm not dead!" she sobbed, squeezing his hand.

It was too bloody much.

Killian broke, crashing into her arms and falling apart as his own sobs overtook him, crying like a child even at his more than three hundred years, his shoulders quaking violently as he struggled to keep quiet, for nothing, _nothing_ in his long life prepared him to handle this! His love! His Emma! She was home! He didn't lose her! And oh, God, was she real! Emma, strong and solid, caught him in her arms, sinking to the floor with him when his legs gave out and there they clutched each other like the world would rip them apart again. He'd never hurt her but she'd bear the bruises of his hold just as he would hers, and he'd wish for them never to heal!

Emma was crying just as hard as he and together they both sought to muffle the noise into each other's shoulders until his mouth hastily sought hers, needing the contact. Lacking a good deal of their natural grace with each other, the kiss was hardly their best. It was too desperate and frantic and only succeeded in making them both cry harder and grip tighter, so once again they buried their faces into each other, holding, squeezing through the storm.

It took a long while in such an arrangement before they began to see any calm in themselves. Gradually the body wracking sobs gave way to deep calming breaths and their strangling grip on each other loosened slightly, allowing their arms some freedom for soothing and loving strokes. Despite his growing composure, however, Killian still couldn't wrap his mind around it all, even as he held the beautiful living truth. It was bloody impossible! He saw! The blood and the sword! They said goodbye! But somehow she was there, trembling in his arms, exactly where she should be, his very life and reason for being, returned to him.

"I'm going to kill that motherfucker," Emma croaked true to form, hiccuping with her tears as she tightened her embrace for just a moment.

"You'll have to beat me to it, love," he managed to get out but the endearment hit him hard and he had to bite down to fight a new wave of tears. "My love!"

"Shh," she comforted him while holding him fast with one arm. Her other hand was busy threading her fingers through his hair as she rocked him gently, trying to sniff back her own tears. "You're breaking my heart, Killian."

"I cannot bloody _help it_!"

He felt her chest shake with a touch of laughter and he lifted his head to try and kiss her again, starting slow and letting the gentle pressure of her lips take away the grief in his bones, the damage left by weeks of thinking she was gone forever. She was his balm, his bright sky, his perfect sea and as she centered him just by holding him and returning his kisses, and those kisses grew stronger and more sure until the two of them were devouring each other the way they knew how to, pouring out their love.

Breathing was never so inconvenient and they parted only slightly, taking in the same air as Killian stroked her hair and her face. "How is it possible, love? _How_?"

She kissed him once more, softly and sweetly. "Look," she murmured leaning back a little and pulling open the torn part of her clothing to reveal perfectly healthy skin with only a hint of a scar, its width that of a sword. Exhaling in a whoosh, Killian ran his thumb over the only evidence of that horrible night as Emma began to explain. "I don't know how, but I died in that cellar and I'm pretty sure my necklace brought me back."

"The _rock_?" he yelped, meeting her eyes again which were once more flooding with tears.

Emma nodded and took an unsteady breath before pushing through her words rapidly. "The little girl who gave it to me, her mom said she was psychic and when she gave me the necklace she said it was lucky! I didn't really buy into it all that much but when I woke up, the thing was sand, and hot, and damn near burned through my skin! I don't know how, Killian, but she saved my life! I was a goner if it wasn't for her!"

It was his turn to console her, and he pulled her back into his arms as she cried again, wrapping her in safety and love. Killian was no stranger to magic but it was still incredible that some little girl in the village had saved Emma's life so simply, so easily, and seemingly by complete chance! And he was not _about_ to dwell on how very final her end would've been had she not worn the little thing! No!

"I thought Morris had you," she mumbled, pulling back to meet his eyes again. "I woke up and I knew I couldn't go back to the Jolly with a traitor there. I questioned the owner of the tavern and he told me Morris was going to Wistern, so I took off immediately."

"Morris left me on a sandbar a few days from the Crowned Crow," he told her, pressing a kiss on her brow. "I went back and learned the bastard's heading from the same man, but the old man lied to me about you."

"Oh fuck," Emma groaned and then laughed lightly, guiltily. "I paid him to keep his mouth shut!"

"Good girl," he chuckled, nuzzling her face. "As much as I wish I would've known you were safe, I am once again in awe of my pirate."

Emma smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry you went though that. I missed you, Killian, and I was hustling to find you, to let you know you didn't lose me."

He only shook his head and embraced her once more. His pain didn't matter. He couldn't imagine what _she'd_ been through, dying alone and then waking alone, confused and lost, but she was Emma and he couldn't help but to smile when he thought about how she'd traveled all the way to Wistern from the Crowned Crow cellar and found him. In fact, he couldn't wait to hear her tell the entire story, again and again, but first things first. His wife was returned to him and there was only one thing he wanted to do next.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Smut chapter. Skip if you wish. :D - Dani_

* * *

Killian's heart was overflowing with emotions, love for Emma being at the very top of his list and as he kissed away the tears softly rolling over her cheeks, he began working on the laces of her bodice, quickly and efficiently. The leather was off her shoulders and tossed somewhere in the room before she thought to question him.

"What are you doing? We've got a traitor to sniff out, and Morris, and whoever is paying these assholes, and-" she chuckled, voice thick with the traces of her tears before he interrupted her.

"Emma love," he said as he leveled eyes with her seriously, kissing her once more because he simply could not stop himself, "You were lost to me and I woke up days later with nothing but a newly shattered heart and the knowledge that I'd never see you again, that I'd live out the rest of my days without you with me. Believe me sweetheart, I _will_ find the coward on our ship, I _will_ track Morris down, I _will _find whoever is behind this and they will all get what is coming to them. But all of that, every bit of it can wait and will wait. Right now, my wife is alive and I'm making love to her until she falls apart in my arms."

Killian felt the tremble quake throughout her body as she half-sobbed, half-laughed and threw her arms around his neck. His hand and his hook immediately ran up the sides of her body, feeling the realness of her through that thin, cream-colored shirt she wore, stained with blood and dirt. It wasn't enough, however, and he cursed himself for the millionth time for his lack of hand and the scarred stump he had to love her with, but he needed that sense of touch, imperfect as it was, and immediately flew through the clasps of his brace, chucking the thing somewhere else before returning his hand and mangled forearm to her solid frame, sweeping that ruined garment from her body and pressing his mouth to her skin as soon as it was naked for him.

Emma sighed at the contact, lacing her fingers into his hair as he kissed a wet path down between the valley of her breasts before moving to tease a nipple with a roll of his tongue. She moaned, music to his damned ears, and sadly her hands left his hair but they were soon on his chest, unclasping his vest and pushing him away so she could remove it. As much as he tried to return to lavishing attention on her bare breasts, she fought him off, intent on getting his shirt off as well, and as they playfully struggled against each other, they both giggled and then froze.

"We've got to be quiet," Emma reminded him, crawling into his lap as she worked on his shirt, smiling and so happy and beautiful even with her reddened eyes.

"Can you do it, love?" he teased her as her hot mouth found his collarbone and she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. "Or are we going to have to find something to stuff in that pretty mouth?"

Emma snorted her laughter and punched him in the arm. "Maybe later. I was hoping to put _that_ somewhere else."

"A woman after my own heart," he murmured, pulling her in for a heated kiss that brooked no refusal.

As well as they played, they became a touch more serious after that kiss. Killian felt the heat all the way to his toes and he _needed_ to love her, needed to get as close to her as possible after being so unbearably far away. She must have felt the same, given her intensity, and they both helped each other finish undressing with a spark of hurry to them, yanking off their boots and stripping down their pants and weapons. Finally both bare and on their feet, Emma tackled him.

Her kiss was liquid fire, scalding him, making his brain nearly go numb with lust but he had a plan and a rapid flash of passion with a satisfying but too quick ending, no matter how loving, was just not it. Not this time, anyways.

Running his blunted arm up her back, he pressed her firmly against him as his hand went to her hair and gripped snugly, forcing her still and at the angle he wanted before sinking his tongue inside her hot mouth to stroke hers in one deep and slow sweep. Emma let him, trying to figure out where he was going and after just another lazy and devouring kiss, she caught on and responded, a shiver running through him as she adjusted to his tempo.

Mouths still locked together, Killian dipped down just a bit, picking her up to take her to their tiny bed and her legs wrapped around his hips as they kissed and he laid her out on the soft bunk, his hand roving to touch all his favorite places. His lips were next and they left hers with a wet smack as he used them to pay homage to her body. His goal was be thorough even though it was all he could do to keep from immediately sinking into her and chasing their mutual release. No, he was dead set on loving every bloody inch of her, every breath that left her mouth, every muffled groan and curve of skin, and it was with that beautiful skin he started.

Emma gasped softly and squirmed enticingly as his mouth traveled her body, using his lips and tongue to claim every bit of her chest, noting that she was particularly sensitive on the underside of her breasts. How had he never found that spot before? Damn him! His lover was never an inactive partner and her fingers traced his shoulders, threaded through his hair, and raked his chest until he moved lower out of her reach, his mouth moving over her stomach, stopping to venerate her new battle wound, and then past her hips and down to her long, beautiful legs. He smiled as he hit the ticklish spots along the way, her softly curving sides, that bit on her inner thighs, and then the arches of her feet. Emma's body shook with laughter, carefully keeping the noise in check while she jerked away or tried to kick him, especially once he reached her feet, and Killian smiled and laughed just as silently as he flipped her over and nipped at her backside. She kicked at him again and used the pillow to muffle her giggles as he honored the strong lines of her back.

The sun finished sinking below the horizon before he was done loving her flesh and he turned her back over and settled once again between her welcoming thighs, stroking her soft and wet folds as she kissed him everywhere she could reach, his face and neck, shoulders and chest. Emma was more than ready for him, moaning and writhing, her center so wet he nearly lost his mind and definitely could not hold himself back any longer. She pulled him in for a fierce kiss and Killian wrapped his arms around her back, bringing her as close as possible and gripping her shoulder with his good hand before sinking slowly into her, feeling her body stretch around him as he filled her little by little.

Emma gasped out of their kiss and her eyes went large as she waited for him to bottom out, a little and fantastic groan leaving her throat when he did. Killian paused for a breath before he continued. He'd need every bit of his focus to make this last, always did when she was so bloody hot and snug and gloriously wet around him. When he felt a tiny shred of control, all he'd ever manage inside of this woman, his woman, Killian began to slowly back out of her until Emma trapped him with her strong legs around his hips.

"Wait," she breathed unsteadily.

"What is it, love? Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said with a small smile but her face crumpled and twisted as a few tears squeezed from her eyes. "Do you know how much I love you?" she asked him after a deep breath. "Do you?"

He closed the little space between them to nuzzle her face. "Of course, I do, Emma."

She pushed him back and looked at him seriously. "No," she growled. "Honestly. Do you _know_? Because you are always so good at telling me! You say things to me that I never thought anyone ever could and they're true! And I don't know how to do that!" she cried, sobbing once again.

"Emma-"

"No! Shut up! Let me finish," she ordered, furiously wiping her tears away. "I _died_, Killian, and I don't ever want you to doubt how much I love you, even if I suck at telling you most of the time. I don't want you to ever think that you love me more than I love you, because that's bullshit."

"Love, I never said-"

"Shh!" She kissed him to make sure he'd stay quiet and when she pulled away, she held his face between her hands. "I love you so much. _So_ much! I feel like I need another heart in my chest to hold it all! And I wish I knew how to tell you better than that because you deserve it! You deserve to know that I honestly cannot imagine my life without you in it, I don't want to! You're my best friend, and my husband, and the man my body instantly hums for every time you touch me, and I just want to get old with you, and climb _beanstalks_ with you, and make babies, and live fucking happily ever after!"

Emma broke and cried once more, holding her hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. Killian, meanwhile, sat stunned with her outburst. It wasn't the first time she'd broken down while trying to express her heart, but it was rare for her. He'd never doubted her love. No, he knew. She wasn't one to be particularly verbal about her feelings, instead they were there in the look in her eyes, the simple I-Love-Yous, and her little touches and kisses littered throughout the day. Killian didn't _need_ her words but that didn't mean they didn't completely floor him and flood his heart with warmth and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move despite her body calling to him as he lie buried deep within her. Emma loved him. She truly loved him as much as he loved her and to hear her say it in so many words shook him to his very soul.

A tear dropped onto her face from his and he leaned to her and kissed her face until she calmed and began returning his kisses with desperation and fire.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered into her skin, embedding it there forever.

"I love you, Killian," she gave back with a little hint of a smile.

"I know you do, love."

With a final kiss, Killian began to move, slowly pulling back, drawing it out, before returning to her deepest point just as tortuously slow and tilting his hips to press in just a little harder once he bottomed out. Emma groaned softly and let her head fall back in bliss, baring her gorgeous throat, a throat he nibbled on during his next languid thrust, tilting once again. This time Emma mimicked his hips, tilting as well and taking him in just the tiniest touch more and both of them moaned at the sensation.

There was no hurry to find their release as they both continued slowly making love and time moved past them unheeded. All that mattered was how close they were, the joining of their bodies, the way they breathed together, the murmured words of love and devotion, a homecoming of their bodies and hearts. Killian's arms stayed wrapped around her, holding her as close as possible while he faithfully kept their ridiculous pace, claiming her deepest depths with every forward shove while nibbling her jaw and lips while Emma made sure she pushed his pleasure to the next level like she always did. Her hands massaged his back and shoulders, her hips moved to take him in that much deeper and make his controlled strokes longer and sweeter, and like the bloody temptress she was, she'd tip back her head and offer her throat for his mouth before coming back up with soft whimpers on her lips and slipping her soft tongue into his mouth to dance with his.

Never had he performed this dance so bloody slow, so perfectly in sync with his partner, and of course it would happen with Emma. It was always meant to be with Emma. His entire life was meant to lead him to her, to this moment in _their_ cabin, in _their_ bed, making love so fucking slowly and thoroughly, their bodies fitting together so seamlessly because they were _always_ meant to. Damn him! Had he ever properly made love to her before this?

In time, Killian felt Emma's body coiling for her release beneath him and he watched in rapt attention as her mouth opened and her face twisted deliciously, struggling to keep quiet, but little throaty feminine grunts and strangled and stunted cries slipped out. A few more harder digs of his hips into hers and her mouth opened wider and her eyes screwed shut in a silent scream as her fingers dug into his skin and she came so very beautifully. Killian stopped drawing out and instead stayed deep, rutting in small motions to keep her coming as long as possible.

Her body exploded around him and he had to breathe deep to keep control of himself. He wanted more, never wanted to lose this connection to her and as she continued to bunker down and ride out her orgasm, Killian swore he'd never seen her so bloody gorgeous. Fuck, he'd never last as long as he wanted to, already too hot, too in tune with her quaking body.

Just a little bit more then.

Before she could come down all the way, Killian sat up, pulling her with him and seating her in his lap, the change making her gasp and wiggle down deep. She took a few more seconds to get her bearings back and then she was riding him hard, her breasts sliding against his chest and their arms wrapped snugly around each other. Emma stayed slow but each drop in his lap was like a cannon shot, fire and explosion that nearly made his heart stop. She knew exactly how to make his toes curl and since she was in control she did everything to love him like only she knew how and had him moaning and whimpering in no time at all while he thrust up to meet her silken hips.

"Killian," she panted, sexy and breathy, "Come for me, babe. I want to watch you come."

Emma kept her eyes locked with his as she worked and waited. She didn't have long to wait for him. Killian felt the wave coming and in bliss, closed his eyes and let the pleasure take him over. Her still throbbing insides were quickly driving him mad and with a particularly solid drop in his lap, he was there, colors firing in his head, euphoria coursing through his blood, and an almost too loud moan leaving his throat as he came. Emma silenced him with a kiss while she landed a few more tortuously wonderful thrusts before stopping completely and letting her tender body feel him pulsing and spilling into her.

Their breathing filled the now pitch dark room and the two of them shook with their passion and emotions as they held each other. Killian was spent, physically and emotionally exhausted, and Emma, his beloved wife who knew him better than anyone, climbed out of his lap and laid him down, arranging the cool sheets before she joined him, snuggling into his arms, chest to chest.

"Don't let me sleep long, love," he whispered after a moment to gather himself. "We've work to do."

Emma sighed contentedly, kissing him sweetly and stroking his back. "Together."

"Aye, my Emma. Always and forever."


End file.
